A Sad Memory

As my dad chased his demons I only remember I was about four, in Wichita, late December A Christmas present from an uncle had arrived A toy guitar, when strummed, played a record inside I didn't even know who he was or what was planned When one day he left with my guitar in his hand "Where is he going with my toy?", I asked in distress Mama said, "He'll pawn it for a bottle, is my guess" I ran down the street while crying and grabbed his leg He just kicked me off, didn't seem to hear me beg The first and last time I saw him I guess was good Life lessons are learned early when raised in the hood It's been over thirty years since he's been dead I'm almost sixty four and he's still in my head