while clearing away clothes for rummage
I came across a precious keepsake
in the pocket of your jacket
a tattered photo of me
your second offspring
guessing my age was two or three
in mid session I smiled
sat on the basement floor
remembering your face
your soft-spoken voice came to me
thick salt and pepper eyebrows
piercing eyes that grinned
fleece knit hair, unkept
white and coarse curls
yet soft, and ever so pure
like tomorrow's winter storm
frozen in time
was each memory of us
I was the first girl
in a long line of males
and oh how you cherished me
I hear your frankhearted whisper
every now and then it gently blows
in my ear saying; "I love you"
I love you too daddy
Written on Jul 8, 2009
7:57 PM
Author Notes
My dad played the tenor sax in The Swing Core, WWII
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