Swimming pools remind me of him
I can see him stooped over the deep end
placing small drops of chemicals
into tiny test tubes, waiting patiently
as the captured pool water turns different
shades of yellow, pink, and blue
He explains what each color represents
and claims that the balance is
once again, perfect
I think he's a genius and wonder how
he learned to figure out those colors,
and hope that one day
I'll be able to do it as good as he does.
It's a few days before Memorial Day
He lets us splash in the water
behind the "POOL CLOSED" sign
under the condition we help clean
the rough, concrete steps and sides
He investigates the thorny red flowers
that swim up the vine outside of the gate
As we pretend to scrub
he picks one for my mom
and I can't wait to be old enough
to pick my own roses
3 comments:
It's not a rose until he gives me one.
It's not a rose until he gives me one.
It's not a rose, until I pick my own.
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