I live on the old farm where I grew up with my parents and which I worked with my father. Often, he’d walk up the road to check on the cattle that were out in nearby fields and I’d sit on the wall in front of the farm and watch him walk back down to me. I knew, even when I was young, that I’d have to store those memories away, for one day the road would be empty.

I watch my father as he walks the road
And memorise each step he takes,
I need to remember how he strode.
I watch my father as he walks the road.
Later as we walk, his pace is slowed;
I help him then: we share the load.
I watch my father as he walks the road
And memorise each step he takes.

(c) Anne McMaster 2015