Days of Washington
days of Washington
where I lived my childhood,
the sun - which sometimes comes -
never stays
my dad was my sun,
and Mother tells us girls
how much fun our father
used to be
on rare occasions
my dad would shine for me. . .
till rain came like that of
Washington
In one photo, I
am sitting on his lap
and rain has washed the smile
from his lips
Mother couldn’t stay;
rain flooded my dad’s mind,
and Washington we then
left behind
A poem for the Contest using the Melancholy Form created by Constance La France
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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