My father
bought me
an accordion
when I was a kid.
He said
it would help
my asthma,
pushing
the bellows
in and out
over again.
But I knew better,
it was only a ruse.
My old man wanted me
to play polka music
to impress his corny friends.
The Beer Barrel Polka.
The Pennsylvania Polka.
To play in a Mummers’s Day parade.
I’m really a freak,
a grungy beatnik,
I told my dad flat out.
Just get me an electric guitar
and a great big amp
so I can crank up the music
and play in a heavy metal band.
©️mft
Crow On The Wire 
I read this, then read it again and again – it’s very simple but also full of meaning. Maybe that’s just because I never understood things worked with my father or my kids. 🙂
Me either. I’m still trying to figure it all out. I guess it’s like putting a puzzle together. I enjoyed your comment. 🙂
Beautifully expressed with direct words. You are a very talented poet that can even reach people not used to reading poetry because of your directness. Loved it! Photo combines perfectly.
Much appreciated, Moments.
You are welcome.
I really enjoyed reading this poem….expressed beautifully
Thanks, Sunny. 🙂
Welcome ,keep writing n keep inspiring…..🙂
😃😃😃