January 2, 2013

Old School

I watched my father
roll strikes and spares,
he taught me to keep score.
My mother died in early spring,
no one ever said what for.
The principal spoke my name
each day, he was easy to ignore.
Teachers sat me in the front,
wanting to be my friend.
They'd be so surprised to learn,
what I've come to think of them.
Now all are with her on the hill,
knowing more than they can tell.
When I join them in the fall,
it will be just as well.