A poem

This week's challenge is Father/Dad. Today is the last day to put in an entry. Hard to get anything worthwhile while on my run.

So I responded positively to the suggestion of the poet with whom I share my life. She reminded me of the poem she had written recently, and I took the photo of him which we have on the top of a cabinet and put them together.

Ces was a professional photographer, whose fingers when I first met him were stained with hypo (a fixing bath made with sodium thiosulphite salts known as hyposulphite of soda). He was also a smoker, and in this photograph of him, the cigarette is there in the left hand. Sadly that habit shortened his life.

This is posted in honour of all our fathers who did their best for the world as they saw it as well as their families. And an acknowledgement that we miss their presence, despite them remaining within us always.