Happy
Some days he’s happy.
On Thursdays, he’s happy.
When I leave home on work days,
wheel my bike from the shed,
wave to him one last goodbye,
he’s looking almost jaunty,
wearing his favourite striped tie.
On these days, he’s up early,
sings on his way to the bathroom,
has time for no more than one coffee,
one toast, then
hurries out to the kitchen, drags
a high stool across the room
as far as the window.
Neighbours say he stays
at the window
at least until lunchtime
and sometimes my brother
comes very much later.
If passers by wave to him,
he doesn’t see them.
My father never takes his eye off the road.
Diana Brodie is a New Zealand poet who has lived in the UK for most of her life. Her poetry collection is Giotto’s Circle (published 2013, Poetry Salzburg).