Another sonnet; this time about my Dad and myself...
"The Photograph" I sit in baby rocker, innocent. Though picture lost, stays in my memory. A view of Dad and me, before youth spent. Our hearts, so close together, happily. He bends; his giant hands hold back of chair. I'm six months old and hug a rabbit's ear. Dad's face and youth crouch near to me,... Sign in to see full entry.