“Where are you, Dad?” came a young voice from one side of the large shop-floor. “Here,” came the unhelpful, though precisely accurate, reply.

I’ve been here all my life,
It’s where I have to be.
Everyone else is somewhere else;
The person here is me.

I’m used to being here,
Although I’m all alone.
Born here, raised here, lived here – it’s
The only place I’ve known.

If I hear you call me
In a shop, I’ll shout “I’m here!”
(That won’t be very helpful, so
Just wait till I appear.)

But, if I ask “Where are you?”
Be careful to avoid
The answer “I am here, of course!”
Or I shall get annoyed.

My here belongs to me;
You’re here‘s a different place.
But let’s be glad the universe
Has found us both a space!

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