Dad

I think of you with tenderness that 
seldom knew breath when you were alive.
Like tattered, yellowed leaves
images appear scattered across 
the vast prairie of my mind.
Mom and I wait patiently at the East Williston station
where the 6:20 takes a brief bow before heading off 
to another show-stopping performance. 
Sometimes I wait under the station’s awning,
promising not to dance on the tracks where
I see armies of gray flannel felt hats; a tide moving to shore,
smelling of stale cigarettes  and  filthy newsprint.
Your disappointments, your exhaustion gives way as you lift me 
and I giggle, my face poised above your  own.
I peer into your velvet brown eyes, crinkling at the corners.
Later, your massive hands massage mine over porcelain 
as thick snow-white lather soothes our intertwined fingers. 
In the mirror I see your serious expression behind my smiling face.  
Dad, do you see me? 
I am thinking of you now 
with tenderness 
that never knew breath.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 4/12/2017 2:23:00 PM
This is so incredibly beautiful, so tender and full of love and emotion. And so well written. Welcome to PoetrySoup
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