His Laughter.
My kitchen swelled with his laughter
then took a breath
while Dad, on the chair, rocking back
a tad beyond point
of balance only just managed to stop
himself falling by
by grabbing my dress with one hand
and tearing the hem.
He sniffed some apology then pulled
out a note and said
with a wink it would buy me another
only this time of silk.
Always the clown Dad told the tallest
of stories and chuckles
surged forward again as he, normally
chatty, took the floor
to begin another imagined adventure
with renewed force.
Memory colours events and although
time distorts I know
my kitchen within its walls still holds
Dad\'s cheery smiles
and how I hated to see him fade into
pale silence before going.