In the mirror in the morning on the shelf
I could see someone but it was not myself.
I looked again and saw it was my dad,
reminding me of certain times we had.
Yet childhood days seem out of reach.
Remembering salty air along the beach
and crunching seashells as we strolled.
It's hard to think that he grew old.
"Your hooded eyes you got from me"
he said, "and love of literacy".
I want to say I'm doing fine.
I should have said so at the time.
Well put Julia, a lovely rhymne
ReplyDeleteI think of mine, all the time
:-) x
Very lovely poem, Julia. I love your theme of seeing a parent in your own visage and the subsequent invocation of memories of that person, and your contemplation of the passage of time. To me, this poem resonates to some degree with the your previous poem ("Bang"); at least, both would seem to be products of the same moment of insight/inspiration. Well done.
ReplyDeleteNice work, skipper.
ReplyDeleteCheck out my dating disasters:
*Plentymorefishoutofwater - One Man's Dating Diary*
This one is worth a few tears...not of guilt, but just of "if only"...it is a "keeper". I'm saving it--might write some melody/harmony to these words one day.
ReplyDeleteIf ever that should occur, you wold first be consulted...asked. OK?
Now this one I like! Thanks for posting it. Thanks for the follow! I look forward to reading more of your work.
ReplyDeleteJulia,
ReplyDeleteI've enjoyed viewing and touring your blog. You are an extremely unique and talented writer. You make me smile. Rita