I wrote this one for and about my dad.
Bedtime Travels
Sitting at the foot of my bed, he would lean over my feet
And if he was tired, try to get away with
The three bears or
The three turtles or
The three parakeets.
"No, Daddy, a real story."
Then we went mountain climbing or
Spelunking in dark caves smelling of damp
With bats, colorful stalactites and underground rivers;
Or night parachute into enemy territory or
Stand with heroes, overcoming great odds.
And the next night his sieve-like memory
Couldn't recall his stories
Untill I retold them word for word.
And we were off, parachuting back into the caves,
Just to climb our way out again to fresh air and
A sky-full of stars.
July 2006
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4 comments:
Why have you never shared these before? I really like this one. Has Dad seen it? If so, maybe he doesn't remember, sieve-like memory and all. Love it, Sis. Keep 'em comin.
Thanks, I put this one on a birthday card for him, so he has seen it, but who knows if he remembers.
I really like this too. It reminds me a lot of my dad's bedtime stories.
This post is insulted with my own bedtime stories. Perhaps the good ones are in there somewhere and just need to be coaxed out. I blame no one except the boys for not coaxing.
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