Categories
Poetry

DAD DEAD HAPPY

1915-1994

Out on the bay in a boat fishing.

Ballgame on the radio.

Home team in the ninth

battling from behind.

Big one about to bite.

Watch keeping perfect time.

Check in the mail.

Wife at home,

roasting beef to a tee.

Gravy boat on the table brimful.  

Golf tomorrow ineluctable.

He smiles into the wake –

half-open eyes on the line half-focused,

hands folded over paunch, adequate

gold in mouth –

half-dreaming at his own wake

the jig never up.

Willie Smith

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s