Red~ by David Seth Smith

Red~ by David Seth Smith

Image by David Seth Smith

Red

I had a battered  bicycle
When I was ten
Red, as much from rust
As paint
The chain guard was missing
The bell, feeble
Barely audible
Over my wheeze as
Two boys tried to steal it
I outraced them
But it taught me
Nothing is too broken
To be coveted

There was a newsstand
On the corner in those days
Old Larry
Jaundiced, kind eyes
British cap
Cigarettes at thirty cents
A pack
For my father
Who drank alone at home
With a war he never left
Yet my father, nonetheless
Reinforcing the point.

 

© David Seth Smith 2013

 
 
 

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.