Strung Out on Love

Growing up I never felt
the jingle of change in my
pocket – dad needed it more
than I.
A sip to lips rye – straight.
In mellow times
added a little water.

On school days we felt
the barbs at gym
showing off holes in socks
big ones
after floppy-sole shoes
were set aside for sneakers.

During those days of whine
I did not remember
when a baby’s bottom
felt the newness of diaper

nor the tickling and
cozy cheek to face from dad
a time for caring
affection.

In my grown up ways
after a lifetime of
weight gain and other
pleasures his face comes
to me – in dreams
memory and DNA attitudes.
He loved me.

© Richard L. Provencher