by Chris Sorrenti
who could these trousers belong to?
carefully laid out on my parents’ bed
ridiculously short compared to my own legs
at first glance appearing that of a child’s
yet with closer inspection
style more akin to the elderly
surely not the same man
who at five feet tall once towered above me
sometimes in angry retribution
laid me face down across his own legs
though more often sitting happily on his lap
to read a story
Posted on 06/11/2006
Copyright © 2016 Chris Sorrenti
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Maureen Glaude on 06/11/06 at 09:16 AM|
ah, these times of tough medical results. But often we've been fortunate to beat the predictions of doctors and nurses in our family, by the mysterious and miraculous magic that can happen, and I pray so for Vince too. Aging can be very smooth for some, but not for most. Well said, thinking of you as you think of him, her...
|Posted by Joan Serratelli on 06/11/06 at 12:05 PM|
Beautiful tribute to someone of great importance and influence in your life. A vivid portrait painted with your pen. Lovely write!
|Posted by Bruce W Niedt on 06/11/06 at 07:53 PM|
Marvelous observation - it's interesting how our perspectives change of the adults in our lives as we get older, including how they evolve from care-givers to care-receivers. Best of luck to your father.... d:-)
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 06/14/06 at 03:27 PM|
Chris, your words are so tender and caring. I remember when I talked to my Mom before she died, how the roles were reversed, yet in her good moments she somehow pulled up the strength to still mother me. Our mixed memories pull us through the hard times. It would be nice, with Father's day near to see this as POTD.
|Posted by Vere Mantratriad on 06/15/06 at 10:03 PM|
What a moving tribute, approached with the wonder of a child. Just lovely.