SCOTLAND

I want to go home,
said my Dad,
just one more time before I die
to Scotland

his face grey against the window
sky just darkening
hands trembling on his blue pyjamas
eyes blurred and milky

I can't take you to Scotland, Dad, I said
but Saturday I'll come
and take you to the water

Saturday I came, dressed him
in an old flannel shirt and jeans
stuffed his feet into slippers
took him to the harbour

We sat, the bench grew colder
gulls screeched away from us
I put my jacket around him, then my arm
we stared at the boats, as the pink dusk
engulfed us