Airshow

It's festive time as I watch the outline
Of a hurricane tearing up the sky,
Oh! seeing such a beautiful old bird,
Casts my mind back and brings tears to sad eyes,

I can see the outline of my father,
Splashed bright against the late afternoon sun,
He's sat on our yellow Rovers' bonnet,
Smiling, asking me if I'm having fun.

The smell of greasy burger vans lingers,
As I sit waving a foam crocodile
-I'm five, maybe six? I can't remember,
Pointing at the Red Arrows overhead.

It's a rare moment, but a happy one.
A rare gem lying amongst the rubble,
Before those years of heartache and trouble.
Half a memory laced in my deep thoughts.

The hurricane has passed and I'm alone,
A brief snapshot before the bitter storm,
And I blink back into reality,
My tears tasting of sweet melancholy.


© Darren Oxton, All rights reserved, 2010