Family Postcard Poem by GRANT FRASER

Can't sit with my parents,
breathe same air,
My dad in lock up for 3 months,
after government letter,

He's in his 80's,
ex-cancer too,
We said we'd pick up things,
like shopping, and we do,

We park the shopping down
on wooden bench between us,
talk at a great distance...
he is partly bearded now,

Funny to see it like this,
who would have ever thought,
like the shed I'm leaning
against, is where I once put my bike!

Both their faces, youthful in places,
mum complains about her leg,
my dad threatening to break out,
although seems to take it all seriously,

The past erupts more inside me,
we're close, but now allowed to show it!
these are people I know so well and don't,
I think W.W.2, did that to them..