Do My Parents Dance?

0 Comments

Tags:
  • Philosophy

    Do My Parents Dance?

    I never saw them dance.
    They made love but, did they dance?
    I saw their shadows, but did they dance?
    My parents danced anger: their own shadow dance.
    I hid from their dance.
    Basketball, baseball, hockey, skiing,
    Treehouse,
    The woods,
    A book,
    The creek, the lake, the boat,
    Always with my dog.
    They hid too, she in the bottle, he in his chair - asleep.
    We survived.
    She died in peace: she did her work.
    He died in pain: he retired from work.
    I am doing my work and some of theirs.
    I dance.
    I hear the drum.
    I dance with my shadows and some of theirs.
    I dance with my parents.
    They dance.

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

    treehouse’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    A Poem For Ellie at 8 0
    Feet 0
    Do My Parents Dance? 0