I found this poem once quite by accident and loved it so much. I thought I'd share it with you in hopes that you will find it as tender and touching as I do...
My Father's Hats by Mark Irwin
Sunday mornings I would reach
high into his dark closet while standing
on a chair and tiptoeing reach
higher, touching, sometimes fumbling
the soft crowns and imagine
I was in a forest, wind hymning
through pines, where the musky scent
of rain clinging to damp earth was
his scent I loved, lingering on
bands, leather, and on the inner silk
crowns where I would smell his
hair and almost think I was being
held, or climbing a tree, touching
the yellow fruit, leaves whose scent
was that of clove in the godsome
air, as now, thinking of his fabulous
sleep, I stand on this canyon floor
and watch light slowly close
on water I can't be sure is there.

5 comments:
what a lovely poem, never too late for a tribute, i agree. i love the photos! xo
I second Suze all around! What wonderful photos - adorable mini Dennice and mini Ron!
Love the vintage photos! Your new banner is fantastic, too. :)
beautiful.
xo
Thank you all so much for your lovely, kind comments! xo
Post a Comment