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An Elegy for My Father

It was a boring Saturday afternoon when my father died,
I'd been listening to Buddy Holly on the radio and wasting my time,
Mucking about with a stanza or two and looking for a rhyme,
It was a boring Saturday afternoon the day my father died.

My mother had dementia and couldn't understand
That my father was dying and leaving her behind,
She thought he'd gone on a journey and she didn't really mind,
But she wanted him to come back to her and she didn't understand.

What really appals me is that no-one makes a noise,
Things happen that shake your heart but nobody beats a drum,
We do not even notice when the Angels of Darkness come,
And what really appals me is that no-one makes a noise.

Camus says 'each of us is born condemned to die' -
And I guess it certainly seems that way,
You fritter away your time on another boring day,
Measuring your life out with Buddy Holly tunes
Or pints of beer or even coffee spoons,
But I'm sick of all the philosophy and I want to cry.

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