his furrowed brow

family | memories | poems

carry my body back to France
if only he would sing
or stand up on his feet the way
he danced the night away
vital and alive at 25
freed from childhood dark and grim
married his sweetheart
from the company of the king
draped her in mink
taught her to drink
baked Alaska made her sick
on a train from New York to Mexico
Penny beautiful naive
Harold passionate extreme
sports cars travel business
2 kids and a dog best wishes
with help to wash the dishes
6 boxes of cigars at a time
Mouton Rothschild vintage wine
that was a good year
when we were 12 and 9
and mother would cook
her shrimp Kap-lan
spilling in a little of her Miller
and Queen’s southern fried chicken
mashed potatoes and gravy
Granny Smith apple pie and
lemon meringue
I was a fat little kid-still am
The Rani June 1-2-and 3
Driftwood Lane the cottage by the bay
mom catching every sunrise
with her camera, many moons flashed
before her eyes
and dad became quiet
relieving doubt and strain
to sooth his furrowed brow
he made all our dreams possible
i coiling ropes salute you
on your bow
sail on, Dyer Dow.

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