Dad Was A Withered Leaf

Dad Was A Withered Leaf

Dad, when did you
Get so old
Both your lumpy old hands
On your briefcase
You're now ready
To go

She got you ready really
For me to collect you
Your important son
As promised, has come
Tables turned
On you

How fragile your face looks
Ready to cry
Like a withered leaf
With big shocked eyes
That whisper
Help me

How easy was it
To accept that first
Wheelchair ride
The piss bottle pride
That kneeling
Chat

Now I still listen
Respectfully
But in charge
As I hoist you
Around the room
Like a rag doll