I Remember

dad's work shed to this day, the scent of wood and dust in the air; the cobwebs in corners and crooks, sun flooding in through windows . . . His scarred and scored wooden work table, and the countless tin cans of nails and screws. And dad working on a new plan, his coffee cup forgotten and ignored; and I would bring him flowers . . . Precious dandelions, buttercups and daisies, which he would place in a container of some sort. Smiling, he would lift me up to sit beside him, and we would ponder his scribbled sketches; oh the grand ideas he had . . . I still have those doodles and outlines, I look at them sometimes and recall. How the lazy afternoon would pass, for me and dad; and later we would sit on the rusty porch swing, side by side, just swinging. __________________________ April 4, 2013 - edit Poetry/Verse/I Remember Copyright Protected, ID 13-1122-224-02 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to the contest, Wk2, March 2019 sponsor, Brian Strand First Place