Mental Snapshot

The river flew into his shoulder.
a cloud perched on the top of his quiff
(blown about a bit by the day
becoming colder) .

A train entered his left ear and
departed from his right.

Birds scattered & clattered from his
outstretched hand.

I was his little boy &
he was my big man.

I took four steps to every one of his
tying manfully to fit into his stride.

I was holding his hand
& crying.

I still remember my Dad
on that day

exactly as he was

when the river flew into his shoulder

And the rain fell all about him

&

my mind
went click

&

captured it

turning it
into
the treasure
of forever.

by Dónall Dempsey

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