A father’s memories poured out/a salty seaman/yearning for another voyage/landlocked/would tell of walking the length of Manhattan island/jobs on boards with a suit size/walking for a job/his hands as he gestured a chop across the wrist/you had to be able to fit the uniform/ but I said let me please and they let me carry it to a tailor/ and got the job/and the look in a proud mans eyes as he told the story twice and his hand gnarled now keeps sawing at the wrist/I got the job/but I also saw the hope for us and fear for us/even as I sighed yes Daddy/you told us that story before/he’d take it up a notch and tell it again
Revrosee's Blog 