Memories of Him
A morning splash of after shave
cigarette burnt fingers
that told me what to do
Life was walloped in our kitchen
by mother dusted hands
He grabs my hand and asks me
in a quiet whisper I could hear,
"Where is your mom ?"
"She's in the attic painting, Dad "
I remember the pointed finger
and the scruffy voice that said,
"Mark my words son,
one day you'll be all grown up
and you may not remember me ?"
His bushy brows and sardonic smile
the way he loved too much to rile,
"Do you know who I am, dad ? "
silence....
A morning splash of light on vacant eyes
so much like mine and then,
he sighs....
Mystic Rose
5/2/2019
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2019
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