Death on the Road

Inspired by a conversation with Mikeverdi, in Roscoff.  We spoke of the importance of always having a sense of direction, even in the Last Days…

In that bloom of youth
Dad handed me his shoes.
No map, nor stark injunction.
No talk of ‘in my Day.’
Just his smile telling stories
of meetings on the way;
and how each dawn
was drawn anew.
I’m still that boy
within this Autumn shadow.
And Dad, who had
his own October song,
awaits the lilt of mine.
This time we’ll meet
along the road he stands on.
For I won’t stop for death,
whilst I still wear the shoes.

© franciman 2023
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Hi Jim,
How are you doing? Great to read you again. This poem was moving and deeply meaningful. We are all getting to that time in life and we are assessing the road ahead.
My dad showed me how to die with courage. He has led the way just like your dad.
Only a new horizon on an ancient well trodden road.

Alison xx

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