Monday, December 8, 2008


Today is my Dad's birthday, I wrote this sonnet on my breakfast napkin today:


Though I walk through the valley of sepia Mangoes and Bluebells,
The smell of scotch rising from their blooms merely ornery,
I fear no lording nor haunting memory.
For I know beyond the aged exposure my father dwells.

And on the day I miss him most,
a little girl dreams of a scarred, oily and familiar face.
its texture en grained upon the ground she walks, a milepost.


mikeypeters said...

beautifully said... I'm thinking of you even more than usual today. Thanks.

beelias said...

Incredible image. Thanks for sharing Whit. All my love,

Anonymous said...

i miss him too.

love you

carolinolicious said...

I love love LOVE this poem. You already know you're an amazing writer- you don't need me to say it again.

I haven't read your blog in a while, and I'm sorry I stayed away! I really do love to read what you write.