To Dad

I'll call you, Perhaps when spring comes 'round... The moon will shine through the window Silver-grey and soft.

I leaf through memory Our film together— So many scenes contained within it, Classics in black and white...

I recall day by day the film Called "The Past": Yellow lights flicker past On deserted little streets.

You wished me then just two words: "All the best..." Got a Big Mac for me At McDonald's, coffee for yourself.

The young moon will light up The evening skies, The wind will tap upon my pane— Arctic, northern breeze.

I treat myself differently now— C A R E F U L L Y... And I'll give you a bouquet Made of flowers of forgiveness.

I'll call you, Perhaps when spring comes 'round, Gathering like a puzzle The fragments of forgotten days...

The film of memory clicks like before— Faster and faster still...