You are 13 years old,
So you shrug it off
And turn to your room, your haven,
As your father stumbles to his.
‘Heatstroke, maybe’, he says
He’ll be fine
You are riding in an ambulance;
It would be fun,
But you are alone
With your father in the back
He’ll be fine
You are sitting next to a hospital bed
Clutching a clipboard
You try to focus on the form,
And when your father does not answer
You are surprised
He’ll be fine
You are 13 years old,
So you shrug it off
Even though you father is still away.
He lives of course,
You were never quite able to imagine otherwise,
So he’ll be fine
Won’t he?
© Rowan Gardiner
139.123: College of Humanities and Social Sciences - School of Humanities, Media and Creative Communication - Massey University
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