The Question

Carol Millar

The look in his eyes, it's a question,
But the words on his lips are unclear.

 

I cross my fingers and respond 'yes Dad',
Hoping that's the reply he wants to hear.

 

But his face contorts in anguish,
I hear the words 'Oh no!' clear as day.

 

'Its ok', I say 'don't worry',
But its too late, it was the wrong thing to say.

 

Most days it's a similar story,
Dad knows what he's trying to say.

 

We are the ones with the problem,
'It's all these other buggers' as he used to say.

 

I don't mind being the one with the problem,
Let him feel in control in some way.

 

Because soon we'll both lose even that,
As he slips even further away.