Robert Hartness

Me Tyneside Da

He rode his boneshaker bike to Jarrow
Me Da did; past those Cookson fifteen streets
The Alkali pub, the Barium and Tyne slacks.
“Want a new motor bike?” His parents said
“No”, he chose to marry the girl he loved,
me Da did; that archetypal quiet man
My brother held me up to a window.
“Look there, Dada came home on his bike”,
me Da did; to a wriggling two-year old.
Long staircase, dark, scary and ominous,
wailing loudly, I climbed on hands and knees
to Dada’s warm voice from his looming shadow.
Blazing fire, Dada asleep, me awake,
Content; balanced on his reclining body
He loved me so very deeply; me da did.

Robert Hartness © 2019