Read to Me
Always, always his nose in a book
each night after dinner he’d read aloud
Now We Are Six
and all the rest, then
The Wind in the Willows
and as I grew, he taught me humour with
Cheaper by the Dozen,
and Onions in the Stew,
the horror of Lobo the King of Currumpaw,
and the mystery of Sherlock Holmes.
He induced shivers with
Comes a breathing hard behind thee—
snuffle-snuffle through the night—
then he calmed me singing Daddy’s Little Girl.
Once, before he lost his mind
he wrote a letter, quoted
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments…
and added if ever I found someone
with whom I could truly share my mind
I should marry him.
I guess he knew that would be a tough one.
He was long gone before I did,
never met my son,
doesn’t know his wife has outlived
just about everybody,
and sometimes I go to where he lies,
read him poems of my own.
§
2 comments:
So tender, Linda. I love this poem. Both my dad and mom loved reading and passed that on to all of us. You are right. That is the next best gift after love. My dad read us Dr. Seuss and Old Mother West Wind Stories, but he loved Shakespeare as well. This from a man who had to quit school after 8th grad to go to work to help his folks save the homestead. He also quoted Longfellow. Unfortunately, I never appreciated my folks adequately until after they were gone. I loved them, but really didn't think about the extent to which they contributed to the richness of my life until years later.
So true. I often say I’m glad my mom has lived as long as she has so I could begin to appreciate her.
Post a Comment