22 June 2006


                About My Father

                Back from the hospital,
                two weeks after the surgeon cut
                his heart apart and sewed it
                back together again.
                He resumes his normal life.
                Fixing breakfast in the morning
                for the family - bread and jam,
                and coffee - then settling down
                to read the paper.
                Only occasionally speaking,
                to express surprise at some event
                reported in the press.
                It is as if nothing has happened.
                When he has truly departed
                I shall remember him
                as he was, here.
                A man of few words, inscrutable.
                Drinking black, hot coffee.
                His eye steady on a world
                he'd already begun to
                leave behind.
posted by Gilbert at Thursday, June 22, 2006

4 Comments:

Blogger Medusa aka expiringpoet said...

Enjoyed this sensitive, lovely piece. Closing lines strikes one to the core. And interestingly, Singaporean fathers of previous generations seem to be all cut from the same mould; quiet and withdrawn from the rest of the family, they show their love and care subtly, sparingly, as if afraid the emotions are too obvious or will run out :)

June 22, 2006  
Blogger Gilbert Koh said...

Thank you, M. :)

June 23, 2006  
Blogger =pinksheep said...

General comment..

Seems like your recent poems read more like prose.

June 23, 2006  
Blogger Gilbert Koh said...

Funny you should say that, because recently I've been toying with writing short stories.

June 23, 2006  

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