Dad woke me at 2 a.m.
It was hard to leave a warm bed
and a cherry-colored dream.
“It’s time for us to go to work,” Dad said,
“to buy fruit and vegetables for our store.”
It was bitter cold outside.
The winds rattled the double-pane windows
and the snow came down
hard and heavy
over the darkened houses of our street.
But I could not refuse.
Dad was my blue-collar angel
who told me to wear my long johns
and a heavy coat with the fleece-lined hood.
“And don’t forget your galoshes,” he reminded.
So I wiped the crust from my eyes,
and left the comfort of the woolen blankets
as we made our way decisively
through the slushy streets of Philadelphia
into the soul of an unforgiving winter.
The two of us, breaking the silence of the morning.
This poem was first published in Amethyst Review. Please visit this website, if you haven’t already.
Your words took me there to that time with your Father. Nice one!
Thank you, Anne. Glad you experienced it.
I really like this Mark. Excellent imagery.
Thank you, Walt. 🙂👍
Excellent, Mark, cold morning, warm memory.
Was this really from life experience? 2 a.m.??!
Yes, the market opens at that time. Too damn early. 🙂
Thank you, wendi. 🙂🙂
you are so welcome……..it is quite moving.
Thank you, hitandrun.
I was moved by your loving tribute to your dad. Those simple, concrete images from everyday life are so effective at conveying deep emotion.
Yes, there’s a beauty in connection. Thanks, Liz.
You’re welcome, Mark.
Wonderful.. re-posted here, including links to your site and the review..
Thanks for sharing your words.
Thank you, GG