send me some dough

it's hard

to tell a child how hard

you worked

when young,

the paper route,

the dish washer job,

the summer

you cut grass, the winter

you shoveled

snow.

it's hard to explain

how hungry

you were back then,

the holes in your

shoes,

the thread bare coat

you wore

in the rain and snow.

the lack of transportation,

the pennies you

saved for school,

for food

and a place to live.

they never saw

you in the mud,

with a shovel digging

a hole.

they look at you and shake

their heads,

and say,

dad,

that was a long time ago,

get over it.

and send me

some dough.