inside of boxes and then
at last
an old yellow cigar box
stuffed with
paper.
i've struck gold.
therein
lies the letters,
the little black book.
the history
of his love life
from day one until the end.
i ignore the smell
of old smoke and dig
in to read about
the woman
from Barcelona,
one from Italy
another from France.
someone from
Seoul Korea.
picture enclosed.
all with beautiful handwriting,
the envelopes
perfumed.
they tell my father
that they love him
and can't wait to see him
again
when his ship comes in.
they can't wait for him
to meet
the children he's never met,
all who look just
like him.
No comments:
Post a Comment