I first posted this is 2011, when my blog was young. I’ve been thinking about my father a lot lately. He was a kind and generous man who approached life with a great, good humor he was more than willing to share.
Your song sang in my mind today.
I longed so to sing it with you.
It was one of your sillier songs,
and it rolled round and round,
like that toy train you bought for me
once, when I was five or six.
It was more than you could afford
and I soon disposed of it, as a child does.
I see you still, on that morning
you first walked with me to school.
New York City so slyly proud of
Autumn, it cackled in the painted trees.
We sang together then and loud
and made a spectacle of us, you’d say,
like Ben Hur or The Ten Commandments,
screened in Technicolor at our theatre
by the elevated train. We made so little
from it dad—I have just the memory.
My cousins, my children paraded to your
songs. I suppose they sing them still.
But time sings in…
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