Angela Topping - Just a Minute

Today my kids are skipping
over your threshold and you not here.
The ones you never dandled,
pronounced prodigies: My kids
who only know your photograph.

I'm busy clearing the path
that twenty years ago I skipped
to find you at kitchen table,
sweating in a vest, wheezing,
door open for the draught.

Your eyes follow me as I go back
and forth with dolls, drinks, books
to make an island paradise on the lawn.
Your face is weatherbeaten brown,
white upper arms are soft baby flesh.

As you sip black tea, your bitter cup,
You listen to the radio.
It's Just a Minute, just a minute ago.

Angela Topping

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-a-minute-4/