I was six:
On the steps
Of the small
Carousel
Stood the old,
Greying haired
And mustached
Man in a
Ratty suit
Smiling and
Anxiously
Peering out,
Waited for
Me.
"He is your
Father, say
Hello please"
"Hello" I'd
Said to the
Stranger who'd
Introduced
As father
Yet I hadn't
Met or seen
Before or
After and
That's where it
Ends.
The one,
The only,
Memory
Of him.
Good riddance
I suppose.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
I was six:
On the steps
Of the small
Carousel
Stood the old,
Greying haired
And mustached
Man in a
Ratty suit
Smiling and
Anxiously
Peering out,
Waited for
Me.
"He is your
Father, say
Hello please"
"Hello" I'd
Said to the
Stranger who'd
Introduced
As father
Yet I hadn't
Met or seen
Before or
After and
That's where it
Ends.
The one,
The only,
Memory
Of him.
Good riddance
I suppose.
I found this one in a notebook. This is a 2012 poem.
