My Papa's Waltz
by Theodore Roethke
The whiskey on your breathCould make a small boy dizzy;But I hung on like death:Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pansSlid from the kitchen shelf;My mother’s countenanceCould not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wristWas battered on one knuckle;At every step you missedMy right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my headWith a palm caked hard by dirt,Then waltzed me off to bedStill clinging to your shirt.
1 comment:
Aw! Thank you Starry Pluto... I love this poem too! I hope you are doing great! xo
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