Handkerchiefs

He was a young man, a son;
And the years accumulated,
And he began to run;
On growing old, his father vacillated;
But he knew for his boy,
That life had just begun;
As alike as they were, pere et fil,
They began to diverge,
As fathers and sons often will be;
Nonetheless, she did their laundry
Together;
And in order to avoid confusion,
Into the corner of her son's handkerchiefs,
She crocheted five tiny bumps;
They would last well past her and her husband:
And they have.



January 3, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.