Home > Poetry > Perfect 4th

Perfect 4th

Up till 5 a.m. babysitting three pork shoulders,

broken toe throbbing all day,

and out of pain killers,

forgot to get bourbon,

and my gin and tonic is warm,

my wife went to go watch a family volleyball game,

and I’m wondering why I came here, to her parents house,

instead of spending the holiday at home.

Then mama starts playing “Where have all the Flowers Gone,”

and I find myself smiling and singing at the top of my lungs,

I look over at my son (today was his tenth birthday),

and he’s enjoying his nerdy overly complex board game (a man after my own heart),

and suddenly my teenage daughter runs over and throws her arms around me,

she whispers “you used to sing this to me when I was little.”

Suddenly I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. charcoalgypsy
    July 5, 2010 at 8:24 am

    Yep. That’s being a parent. I love it when they make me wonder why I ever doubted it was all worth it. Nice job.

  2. July 5, 2010 at 8:31 am

    Words fail me as usual….I so enjoy your writing and the sincerity you write it with…Awesome 🙂

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