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Cindy Shimp Poem
He never came around much, and never stayed too long.
Carried a vial of whiskey in a paper sack, sang a song.
But this day was special, my heart was so alive.
I carried a sack too, with candy, today I'm five.
He had said, "Come on son, let's go to town, get a treat."
Joy filled my little being. I felt all of ten feet.
Wrapped me a suck in my sack, cherry, my favorite kind.
As he slugged away on his bag, I slued away on mine.
My little legs, nearly running, three steps to his one.
But the sun was shining, we were together, father and son.
He spoke little that I could understand. About dreams lost.
Said I should follow the rainbow, forget the cost.
He said "life is short, pleasures few, so have a good time."
We followed the path through the woods, his hand in mine.
We walked beside the railroad track, till the sun dipped low.
How far? Five or six miles- couldn't tell, didn't know.
My short legs were aching, but I never complained.
For in the distance, I could hear the approaching train.
He sat me on a rack and said, "Let's rest a spell."
He was getting tired too, from his walk, I could tell.
As the clamor of the train grew louder, I became excited.
"I'll see the train up real close", I said delighted.
It grew louder and louder, till it was all I could hear.
I laughed aloud, looked at pop. On his face was a tear.
He jumped, ran to the passing train, lunged into an open door.
I screamed and cried "Don't go!", but never saw him anymore.
His crumbled bag lay on the ground, a memory at my feet.
He had said, "Lets go to town, get a treat."
I threw my bag on the ground, all the sweets spilled out.
At five it was only candy, but it was my life no doubt.
Belief, trust, hope, faith, love, burst forth onto the ground.
I sat there on my rock and cried, till the sun went down.
Then with a tear stained face i turned to follow the railroad track
Knowing all the while, there was a rainbow,
Somewhere behind my back.
Copyright © Cindy Shimp | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Cindy Shimp Poem
Your memory keeps calling me.
Your memory wont let me be.
Every hour of the day,
at work or at play.
Your memory wont let me alone...
your memory has its own cell phone.
Your memory has its own cell phone,
and your memory is on the roam
with a private line
straight throught to my mind,
and a ringer that sounds in my heart,
and each time it calls, i fall apart.
It doesn't matter where I am,
the service never does go down.
Though I hold another tight,
the calls wake me in the night.
Your memory won't leave me alone.
Your memory has its own cell phone.
If for every call i had a dime,
and a penny each tear I've cried,
I'd be a millionaire.
And i know you don't care.
Your memory wont leave me alone...
your memory has its own cell phone.
Brrring... brrring... hello, oh it's you.
Yeah, your calls always get through.
It's 4 a.m., you didn't know?
Yeah babe, I still love you so.
Yeah, call me. Call me anytime.
Baby, call me... use the private line.
Copyright © Cindy Shimp | Year Posted 2005
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