The Old Man and the Sea

The happiest
I ever saw him
Was at sea
With a pint
Of whiskey
As his lubricant,
Telling his tales
To a group
Of slumbering
Fishermen.
He rambled on,
Oblivious
To their snoring,
Embellishing
To his heart’s content.
People learned
Not to pay attention
To what he said,
And I suppose,
I was one of them.
Consequently,
I never got
To know him
All that well
Even though
He was my father.