Feb 2017
I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury
My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me
So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing
I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury
My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me
So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing
I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week
Thank you everyone for the views and comments. The Daily was a nice surprise this evening.
There were five of us kids. I was the only one who ever did anything like this. It was like my father needed someone to stop him sometimes.
My father asked, "What are you doing out here?"
I lied, "Getting some air."
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1801472/the-mayor-of-wesson-street/
There were five of us kids. I was the only one who ever did anything like this. It was like my father needed someone to stop him sometimes.
My father asked, "What are you doing out here?"
I lied, "Getting some air."
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1801472/the-mayor-of-wesson-street/
