Bitter

I recall the pitter-patter
of tiny feet in the hall.
‘Daddy’s home.’ Daughter
running to greet me.

I loved it all. The belonging.
The warmth. Long ago
I was a fitter man. A family
man. I recall the pitter-patter

of tiny feet. ‘Cup of tea, love?’
I loved it all. Have I said that already?
The warmth? The belonging?
‘Daddy’s home.’ That was before.

Before the booze. Before he
was on the scene. How could she?
Long ago I was a fitter man.
A husband. A father. Not a bitter man.


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