Words: Rebecca Trotter (She/Her)
‘Bacharach was pretty, but Hal had the knack’
Just please dad, one more song… before we hit the sack
I hop on the sofa to give him the stage,
He strikes a pose, concealing his age
Eyes closed, toes a tappin’
I play the audience, resounding clapping
small prayer for good luck,
Then comes that hook
Mum walks past, barely amused
She catches my feet, ‘hey take off ur shoes’
But the show must go on, the chorus is coming
A daft dance erupts, the sound of drumming
A revived youth, he prances and fakes
The prayer sung, as Aretha awakes
Day in, day out, make up intact
the bus commute, there and back
In spite of the hour, he knows it’s still there
His moves that is, not his hair
To delight and amuse, the young doll at home
Who misses it most, now that she’s grown
Wonderful