Far away father

I think of you often,
see you in the eyes of others,
that smile,

hear your words of wisdom
that have never grown old.

I walk the same solitary path now
with the wild wind in my head,
the sound of breakers
on a lonely strand.

We both have the pull of the tide in our blood,
the yearning to walk hills
that exist only in the mists of time.

Yearning,
the words keening in a distant tongue,
drawing me in your wake
to a place we both call home.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

39 thoughts on “Far away father”

      1. When we used to get the ferry back to Ireland with my parents, I was always saddened by the number of men going back home for the weekend. Just poor family men who couldn’t get work in Ireland. Middle-aged men a lot of them who Ireland still couldn’t look after at home.

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