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What My Best Friend Gave Me
My best friend gave me the truth, his age when I asked, thirty-two, in his dark brown leather jacket.
First and last time I ever asked that question, all dressed in white, sunny day of first communion.
Slight hesitation before he spilled the beans, knowing the truth couldn’t hurt, and didn’t.
Still have pictures from that day, a sunny day, back in the nineteen fifties, Saint Michaels Church.
My best friend gave me an education, My Fair Lady, when he realized that I had a little impediment.
Taught me the value of pronunciation, importance of being understood, by those who valued that.
The idea of confidence in myself, faced with others who were confident as well, held my head high.
The Rain in Spain, how to speak in song, it all seemed long, I had been wrong, and I got it.
Music, from Ma’s pots and pans came a rhythm, a clamoring she didn’t mind, the kitchen floor.
My best friend, and the Polka Dots, big band, big drums, then I knew, knew the real sound.
Gave me exposure to all the right things, from all the right places, people.
My best friend gave me rope, fifty feet of half inch, “I want to climb” and so I did.
Gave me the tools, set me free, on my own, I turned into me!
My best friend, my dad, I miss him so much, in the end, I am just like him.
Comments
Lavender
Tue, 2024-03-05 21:16
What My Best Friend Gave Me
Hello, Mark,
The detail here makes this poem become more than just a poem - it is a life.
I can see and understand the time and energy, and the kindred spirit you and your father shared. So much here, and probably so much more you could say, even though your last line says it all.
Thank you!
L
mark
Wed, 2024-03-06 13:46
Dear Lavender
You have always had a way with language, kindness is your talent.
(my secret mentoress) ;~)
Thank you,
Tawny023
Wed, 2024-03-06 04:42
Superb bar none
This literally is the best poem I have read in a very long time. It reminded me of Mitch albom s books which I adore in a poetic way. By the way I want to read it again and again. Truly drew me in and I did not want it to end. Made me appreciate time, it flown masterfully, and captured so much. The tender Lessons, experiences, and honor of your memories/parental relationship. He is smiling down with pride, a job well done.
mark
Wed, 2024-03-06 13:40
I used a delicate touch
Hello Tawny, I tried to take a lot f time and put it into this short version of some of the parental good in my life.
Time, it is ellusive. It seems like all the time with him never occurd, he's gone now, much of my life unaware, he's gone, strange the realization now.
He gave me muscle memory, in whispers.
Thank you, Tawny,
Mark
Barbara Writes
Sat, 2024-04-13 17:40
Great
Nothing like having your Dad as your friend. Memories for life
*Collaborative Poetry Workshop* American Version of Japanese Poetry ~ Renga ~ Haiku, Senyru, Tanka.
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mark
Sat, 2024-04-13 21:29
Indeed so true
Hi Barb, great to see you,
Mark