Family - My Dad The Recycler Poem by Paul Warren

When I was a kid and walked with my dad
We would walk next to him and be kinda glad
He had done it all and seen it all in his life
And knew how to navigate through it without any strife

He had his usual job but made some extra cash
Out of carpentry skills he learnt in his youthful hash
When he lived with an uncle after his mother died
And left to his own devices with nothing but his pride

Getting back to this story now is important
Because my dad had the keenest eye to warrant
He would see a screw, bolt or nut on the ground
And put it in his pocket as it was found

When we would get home the first thing he would do
Is empty his pockets in a jar in the shed on the bench too
Growing up in the Depression meant he never threw anything away
I suppose he lived in a philosophy where recycling in the best way

So what happens now these blokes aren't around
Are their more punctures now these things are left on the ground?
And all that good wood and metal is finished and not used
So will rot in the dirt with no one to recycle and to choose.

© Paul Warren Poetry