March 7, 2016

Pipe Music

My daddy used to
ride a motorcycle
long ago. Put it away
before I could get
enamored of it but
I knew and loved that
pipe music
almost before I could
speak.

Pulled it
out again
only after he retired,
thinking, I guess,

I was safe enough
by then from
two-wheeled lust
for him to throw a leg over,
get back on. Later his hips

messed up even that
short run for freedom,
and the bike was sold

before I could speak up for it —

now, I’ve never owned a road bike
and only ridden small ones a few times
in the woods and then only
when my daddy wasn’t around

but somehow

I dance to pipe music more these days

and somewhere in the dark
beyond my father’s eventual

departure, I can see myself
throwing a leg over
something big and loud and
noisy and all mine

before my own bones tell me no,
before I become
deadened to that rough skirling
clatter,

before I forget him completely.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

This entry was posted on Monday, March 7th, 2016 at 8:33 am and tagged with meditations, poems, poetry and posted in poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.