Many of us no longer have a living Father.
On this June 19 we in North America celebrate the day with the ritual of tie giving. Poor old Dad. My Father has been gone these many years, but today i look at his photo. Such a handsome Hungarian nobleman. Noble in the good sense of the word.
I wrote a few haiku and tanka this morning.
Counting the many
shades of grey in the ocean
and in his hair
Memories of
eating cherry strudel
in a grand old hotel
The hearty aroma
of goulash coming
from the old kitchen
His daily dose
of raw garlic
for longevity and health
ala, it did not work at all
so much for folk remedies
The pop of
the champagne bottle
at midnight
to celebrate
his wedding anniversay
each New Year's eve
Off to the cobbler
for a new pair of
riding boots
Sunday morning
the sound of csardas
from the living room
Long ago
the seranade of fiddlers
under my Mother's window
romance the old
Hungarian way
Sunday ritual
his English suit
and Italian shoes
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