A Long Way North
It’s not yet spring, still it’s cold and grey.
I spent a lazy Sunday afternoon
Before a warming fire on a granite hearth
In a long white house, far from
The place you called home.
I left you behind, a long way north,
But once I saw you here
Long after you were gone
In sloppy cardigan, slippers, book in hand.
You turned and smiled at me,
That smile, that well-remembered smile.
Do you like this place?
And me? Do you like what I’ve become?
The child you taught to read and play,
Who grew, and learnt and moved away
From that sheltering home a long way north.
Tags: daughters, fathers, Poetry, relationships
Born in Lancashire, Law degree from Sheffield University and MA in Creative Writing from Exeter. A barrister for twenty five years, who appeared in the Crown Courts in and around London.
When I retired we moved to live in Devon, first on Dartmoor, more recently overlooking the Exe Estuary. After twenty years I still feel an exile from London. Married, no children but own an affable Springer Spaniel. I love reading, walking and travel. I completed an MA in Creative Writing at Exeter University and have written three books, Crucial Evidence, Reluctant Consent and Legal Privilege, all set in London.
You can email me email@example.com