IN FATHER'S ROOM.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girls reflects on her father's room.

Submitted: September 02, 2009

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Submitted: September 02, 2009

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From your father’s room
You can see the fields and trees
And the sunlight that comes here first
And warms you; better than your own
Room at the back, with its dull view
Of the farm buildings, and far off
Shack where the Mortons lived
Until Mac Morton shot himself
Through the head, some years back.

Your father’s room has all the books
And photographs he’s kept over
The years, and painting on the walls,
That your mother did, when her mind
Was whole and her temper calm
And she ranted less and did no harm.

Now she sits drugged up and sleeps
And here in father’s room
Is where you go to find sanctuary
And repose away from the mutters
And voices of those strangers
Who come, go, and attend
Her needs and wants, until your
Father returns from work away,
And makes his tired way to this
Very room where he’ll stand
Where you stand now, with
One hand on his brow
And another in his pocket,
Gazing out at fields and trees
And the sunlight that comes
To his room first, as a kind
Of blessing, like water
To ease his dry soul’s thirst.


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