Sunday, November 18, 2012

Memory of My Father by Patrick Kavanagh

Thankfully my father is alive and well.  But I read this poem in school and it always stuck in my head.  The older we both get, the more true it becomes.   

Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.

That man I saw in Gardiner Street
Stumble on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son. 

And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London.
He too set me the riddle. 

Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me
"I was once your father."
Patrick Kavanagh

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