my father’s eyes



my father’s eyes




the clouds below

swirl and twirl and make

rosettes you might find on a cake

baked for a wedding


a funeral

the kind where they stop all the clocks

and ask you to silence your mobile phone

the way they do on planes

i’m told that

just before he died

my father’s eyes turned brilliant blue

so now and then i wonder


mine will do that too






 September 2013