Thursday, June 28, 2012

My Papa's Waltz





My Papa's Waltz

by Theodore Roethke
The whiskey on your breath   
Could make a small boy dizzy;   
But I hung on like death:   
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans   
Slid from the kitchen shelf;   
My mother’s countenance   
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist   
Was battered on one knuckle;   
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head   
With a palm caked hard by dirt,   
Then waltzed me off to bed   
Still clinging to your shirt.

2 comments:

StarryPluto said...

I've always loves this poem. It's something I haven't thought of in a while. Thanks for posting! Take care.

Erica Mazzeo said...

Aw! Thank you Starry Pluto... I love this poem too! I hope you are doing great! xo