The Accordion Folder
Daddy Played the accordion
He kept his lunch in an accordion folder.
When his heart got too weak to hold it up
He put the accordion down.
Each day he took the folder to work.
When it started to wear out
He reinforced it with tape
Until he had a tape folder.
In the wide part, he put his thermos
Filled with coffee for the day
Each morning he made the same sandwich
Cream cheese on rye.
When he came home from work
He placed the folder at one end of the couch
So I knew he was back.
The day he died was Labor Day
We came home without him
And put the folder away.
Evelyn, your poem is very nostalgic, sweet and sad. A memory of your dad. Is that a good or bad memory? It has the mood of being resigned to his death, because he didn't have much pleasure in life. I might be completely wrong, I wanted to reply to let you know I liked your poem and look forward to your next.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Barb Shelton