Tuesday, June 21, 2011
My Father - poem I wrote in high school
(a poem written Thursday, 9:15 p.m., May 26, 1966)
My father was a poor man
But I said to him one day
"What have you saved to give your son
Before he goes away?"
His forehead, heightened in surprise,
Turn to a twinkle in his eyes.
"You ask me what I have to give?
All there is to give!", he said.
"Eighty joyous years to live
And all I ever had:
Two eyes to see what there is to see,
Two legs to take you there,
Two ears to hear what there is to hear,
And a mouth to drink and swear,
Two hands, five burning fingers each,
To feel the smooth and smooth the harsh,
A lust to touch and love and teach
And sense enough to wash."
Well, I walked and saw and heard and held
And loved and swore and drank
And now I have my son to teach and, Hell,
I've him to thank!
