The Thief That Stole My Smile
He stared me frozen;
stiff as a board.
A long hard stare;
a gawk, as frigid as hoarfrost.
A cold stare, as cruel as words.
Eyes know my father’s smile,
as broad as imagination.
That stare, that I alone know, is an omen;
a hunch to unbend my crooked ways.
What eyes and some ears don’t know,
buttocks know so well.
His blind and silent motto
is unknown beyond this roof.
A neighbor heard the wailing
and decide to intervene,
‘cause eyes can’t rest
with all that vicious screaming.
This slogan echoes brutality,
and confiscate my smile.
And the restless neighbor hollered,
“lickings won’t work!”
And I believed him,
until his son stole the farmer’s goat
then drown himself at sea.
Hard ears cause a painful tail –
the motto always wins.
Soft skin burns for defiance’s sins.
Father’s conscience never speak to him,
‘cause he did it by the book.
“Don’t hold back the rod and spoil the child”
is the thief that stole my smile.
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