Two continents – two sons,
Leaves a father here contemplating
How time runs
Off and away with everything
We ever call our own
The time and tide that ebbs away
Taking the uncertainty of youth
To return one day,
With new grown men who stand and gaze,
Politely bemused, at figures once tall but now diminished
Since their being away.
And parents having to let go, yet still holding on,
To little boys they shaped and moulded
In days long gone,
Don’t always through their eyes
See the face the shape they recognise.
But sometimes with eyes closed, sons and parents both,
Recognise the song.
by Nigel Winn (1950-2006). Dated October 20th 1996.