Another Friday night, I walked into the pub,

To meet my Dad who was cradling

A pint of Heavy,

And using his other hand

To prop up the bar,

With his eyes fixed on the Glasgow sawdust.

His swaying difficult to discern

But I could see it.

“Time to go home” I said.

Looking up he grinned “Hello son, want a pint”

And I had to decide,

Whether to stay and swallow a few,

Or to put his arm around my shoulder

And walk him home through the night time headlights,

And the rain,

And watch my Mum scream and throw a tantrum,

Which is more hellish than watching my Dad

Stagger.

So I ordered a pint and a Glenfiddich

With a splash of water,

And when my Dad looked at me

And lifted his pint,

He said “Cheers”

And how many beers

We had after that

I can’t remember,

And when I got home,

And how I got home

I can’t remember

So the night was a success

All round.

Categories: Art, Blog, Creative writing, Photography, Poetry

Tags: Beer, Dad, Glasgow, Whisky