My father died a few weeks after his 75th birthday in October, 1990. He had a talent for music: singing in and conducting choirs, and playing the church organ for many years. Here is a picture of him as a young man: a somewhat anxious look, wanting to do a good job of transporting my mother and me safely.
The poem Prelude and Fugue was published in the anthology, Poems from the Readaround, Tarantula Press, 1995.
Prelude and Fugue
I enter and dare a glance at your effects –
straight rows of books in alphabetical order
the white board emptied
pens and pencils (four of each)
manuscript paper and a rubber
on the Yamaha
You were filling in the bass line
Music for a while shall all your cares beguile
You kept some organ pipes in the loft.
You were going to build one.
What happened to those when you moved
into the flat?
Sometimes I turned the pages for you
feet darting across the pedals
When I was twelve I left the choir
and gave up singing
Your black shoes scuffed at the side
The Catholics paid best you said
a bonus for weddings and funerals