My Dad

I've never wrote a poem before, but I know I enjoy reading them. I have no idea what the technical components of a poem are but I just decided to write down a few words that were in my head after taking a few pictures of my dad whilst he was watching the Manchester football derby today.

My Dad

Don’t call it The Northern Quarter

To him it’s Ancoats

The cobbles where he grew tall

Now in painter and decorator overalls

Stained with blood

The colour of his shirt

On derby day

But his eyes are blue

And his accent is strong

Strong like his brew

He’s had the same haircut

Since 1962

Down at the pub

Friday night is boys’ night

Don’t try to prove him wrong

Cause he’s always right

My dad is hard

Fighting with his brothers

The days of the back yard

I used to say:

“I’ll get me dad on ya”