A leisurely stroll in the park with the boy is a gift beyond measure.
Horses cant.
Dogs frolic.
Birds twit and screech from bush to tree.

The handy connection tween old father and son
is all that roots us to the well-trodden ground.
With glazed and bright eyes
we see all that is wonder.

In his mind, the old father hears the merry-go-round
sounds of far away rides.
Gaily painted horses mounted on gold posts,
gleam and grin.

He smiles down at the boy
remembering another hand holding his,
whilst another hand with a leather belt
curled (curls?) around an angry fist.

And he caresses the upturned face of his grandson,
knowing that wheels within wheels
can be broken.
Happy are they, as they walk.



Sorry. I forgot about the awful formatting of these sites. Apologies.

Edited now, I hope?

Sometimes people give what they got and sometimes they strive to do better for following generations. I find this reassuring Bri, lovely poem. When horses cant in your neck gf the woods does it look like American horses who cantor? (or is it canter?) Anyway there are a few of your colloquialisms that don't translate over the ocean. I still don't know how I feel about that---is it up to the reader to make the effort to figure out the difference?

I vote for "curled"

Sorry for the delay Indy. RL intervened.

Sometimes people give what they got and sometimes they strive to do better for following generations. I find this reassuring Bri, lovely poem. When horses cant in your neck gf the woods does it look like American horses who cantor? (or is it canter?) Anyway there are a few of your colloquialisms that don't translate over the ocean. I still don't know how I feel about that---is it up to the reader to make the effort to figure out the difference?

I vote for "curled"


I deliberately used the word 'cant' as a truncated 'canter' cos it fit better in the poem.

In the re-write I went for 'curls.

Thanks for the feedback.

Always a pleasure to be critted by a peer.

Bri.