I was only five when my father left
Though I never heard him go
Just the creaking of a draughty door
And a chill on my pillow

Must have snuck out just like Santa
Heavy prints on virgin snow

My only memories of him
Are from those early days
As rockets bold and painted ships
Come floating through the haze

And pre-work kisses rain on cheeks
That time will not erase

I often wonder where he went
And why he had to leave
His little boy alone to fly
Thin paper planes and grieve

In his happiness would be good
Like Santa, to believe