Papa G

you made well with just a cricket
and a jar or two
with your brothers
and you’d pull the cricket’s guitar
pull the strings out of it’s back
and laugh
they pull strings out of you but injure and peril
twice decade you lived here
you escaped your multi-millionaire fate
and came to start again.

Tested, persisted, proud
Your feathers always on show
5 foot 8, covered in frowns
World wearied work for gold.

© Lydia Hounat 2014

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