For Dad (17.4.04)
Robert Eisen
Aged 45 he sat there
In his big armchair with receding hair
Thinking about what he’d done with his life
Where all those decades went
What all those days and nights meant
Working all those hours
Long past closing time
Just to make an honest buck
Trying to be good
Trying to provide
And to prosper,
But he couldn’t justify his life to himself
He loved his kids
He loved his wife
He loved his house
But at the same time resented them
They had held him back
What else could he have been?
He thought to himself
There must be another level,
Perhaps an afterlife
Perhaps a second wife
Perhaps a new car
Perhaps a holiday
Perhaps a new kitchen
Perhaps a cup of tea
And with that he stepped out of his armchair
Laid down on the floor
And slowly drifted away.
