Wednesday, April 22, 2009


refuge is at my grandfather's feet

where between sips of beer
and swatting flies his
fingers play piano
across his belly.
the problem, he says
is you don't listen.
i watch the peacock clock
tick away time while he
whistles a lullaby.
take a seat baby girl
and pats his lap with
weathered hands that
helped to raise me,
my cheek pressed against
the sun-warmed buttons
of his overalls.
stop crying for your father,
devil's got a daddy complex
enough for the world

Dreams are fantastic, aren't they? I've been having a bad daddy week, and then this dream surfaces and puts everything back into its perspective. My subconscious is so smart...


Light and Writing said...

This is so fantastic! The last few lines I wanted over and over! You break my heart and then put it together again! I hope the rest of this week is very good to you!

Lenina Crowne said...

You made me shiver...