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My Father And I by Reshma Ruia

My Father and I

A winter’s night, my father and I at the table

It’s a simple meal. It’s his favourite meal

Yellow scrambled eggs, white toast buttered his way

A big mug of brown builder’s tea

Afterwards we will sit and watch BBC news on TV

One final cup of tea he will be ready for bed

Is everything fine. You happy?

He nods. He was never one for big words


Summer’s morning. Sparrows fling their bucket of songs

like confetti in the air

I lean outside my window, see the trees nodding

their heads full of leaf and flower

My father is jogging up and down the street

arms swinging like a young man

A big grin on his face

Slow down, I shout out

He nods. He was never one for big words


An afternoon in autumn. My sister rings me

What are you up to she asks

Just the usual I shrug

There is a pause long like a river

Dad’s been dead and gone for a year now

Not for me I say

I was never one for big words

Reshma Ruia

Reshma Ruia is an award winning writer and poet. Her first novel, ‘Something Black in the Lentil Soup’, was described in the Sunday Times as ‘a gem of straight-faced comedy.’ Her second novel manuscript, ‘A Mouthful of Silence’ was shortlisted for the SI Leeds Literary Award. Her writing has appeared in The Mechanics’ Institute Review, The Nottingham Review, Asia Literary Review, Confluence, Cabinet of Heed, Funny Pearls, Fictive Dream, The Good Journal, Sguardi Diversi and various anthologies such as Too Asian Not Asian Enough, No Good Deed, Love across a Broken Map and May We Borrow your Country among others. Her stories have also been commissioned by and broadcast on BBC Radio 4. Her debut collection of poetry, ‘A Dinner Party in the Home Counties,’ is out now. Twitter: @reshmaruia


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