Sidney Beck Poet Prose Poetry

Uncle John

UNCLE    JOHN

Uncle is hardly an adequate description 
For a man who in practically every way 
Acted as my father when I was small.
I have even started to look like him as I get older.
I didn’t appreciate him till long after he was dead.

He was my widowed mother’s  brother,  
Unmarried, who  lived in our house.
Big Jack to his workmates 
In the shipyards on the Tyne
Until one day a three-ton steel plate 
Fell forty feet on to his right leg 
And he lost the leg,
Then he was a wreck. 

But he was a handyman -  and made things at home.
He read widely,   taught himself German, 
Could play harmonica, and knew all about opera.

He taught me  how to  play harmonica,
And to draw sketches of ships, 
And how to  cobble  shoes, 
And  to cut wood properly, 
And to never leave a job half-finished.
He taught me how to be generous with time for others.
And  I learned my sense of humour  from  him.

These are  not the actions of an uncle,  but of a father.

............................................
Written  by     Sydney  Peck

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