Memories Of My Father

By Mark W. Swarthout

Bermuda shorts and black socks,
Dancing down the produce aisle,
A soft tune whistling from behind
The teeth, joy enveloping the face.

The picture of composure, anger so uncommon
But when it flashed, it was at those doing wrong
Censoring books and stiffling creativity.
Topped with a receding hairline passed on

His hearing, long gone but not admitted
Now restored, the small pink amplifiers
That rest snug and firm in his ears
Eating batteries on a regular basis.

The patience that has grown
Poring over the jig-saw puzzles
And through many hours of reading,
Both to his children and himself.

Not afraid of hard work, no carpenter he!
A good example, a wonderful man
Who taught us all when to take a stand
Just don't follow his fashion sense.

Thanks, Dad!