I love poetry.
The rhythm. The cadence.
It's like dancing. With words.
Because of this love, I've decided to implement Poetry Monday.
The day when I get to rhyme. All the time.
To start things off, a poem dedicated to the person who gave me the love of words.
My dad.
Enjoy . . .
The things he did (to this small kid) did fascinating
sound.
From ‘doing chores’ and things outdoors, to office
work. With pens.
Well, I’d appear, interest sincere, and lots of time
to spend.
Our barn, it burned, all were concerned, that year
that I turned four.
Soon things were bought and experts sought. A barn was
built once more.
Then we ranch folk (in a masterstroke) with this new
elbow room,
Thought we’d have fun, perhaps some sun would clear
away the gloom.
We’d have a dance. Some wheel and prance, was what was
needed now.
Our neighbours, too, would gloom eschew, and our new
barn endow.
We hired a band who took command, and music did ensue,
We ate and twirled and stomped and whirled from hello
through adieu.
I don’t recall that much at all, I do remember this:
My dad was there, in shined footwear, and nothing was
amiss.
He took my hands and had me stand upon those shiny
toes,
Then slowly lead (my fears all fled), and love for
Daddy rose.
The days have passed, the years amassed, I don’t
remember much,
Though far I gaze, that’s day’s a haze, of people,
stuff and such.
I know they had both good and bad, some happiness and
woes.
One thing that’s best above the rest. I danced on
Daddy’s toes.
