Remembering Dad During Allergy Season.

A foggy head

laying low in a foggy heart.

A ragged start.

 

A sinus silo

filling in with pressure grain.

What a pain.

 

Little I think

above the mucus descent.

My thoughts are bent.

 

A nasal muse

a mist to be sprayed.

How I prayed.

 

I saw my dad with a Kleenex

hanging from the right side of

his nose.

Time froze

as I remembered him saying

hello with the dangling

participle waving in the wind.

I guess it is better than

watching a drop form on

the tip of his facial protrusion.

 

I’ve watched that too.

 

His leaky facial facet

running up a bill.

I wanted to tighten his ear

to dam up the trickle.

Lefty loosey, righty tighty.

 

I suppose the muse cut through

the mucus today

and I am on my way.

 

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