Father build his house
a house where I dwell
playing parlor games.
Charades color lies
become truth only
to remain lies.
Running playing hide-n-seek
hiding from my father.
He finds me knowing me better
than I know his rooms.
He showed me his trust,
seeing I want to play
with his trust.
Putting his trust in me away
so it does not become broke
like mother's dime store nick nacks.
Comments
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Powerful piece...
On the surface, it displays a wonderful childhood memory, full of life & childhood innocence...
Maybe me, but I sense a sinister undertone of the memory fracturing into something darker, where trust & truth are valued very little, yet yearned for... Like I say, maybe me reading my own interpretation into it...
All in all, fantastic, contemplative write...
Keep up the good work...
Well done!!!
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What I get from this piece is that the fathers trust keeps getting decepted. So the trust he has he tucked it away so he doesn't get let down anymore. Good one here hon!
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A nice ode to your father, well done and keep writing it gets better all the time. My best wishes.
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