TODD, a poem
Here is one of my poems
I wrote a few years ago.
TODD
The face that waited many years is gone.
As I came home from school,I turned the corner
saw the face before those eyes saw me;
I got to see the searching look, to see
the sad expression turn into a grin
because when I got home his day began.
That face was what would bring me
home instead
of staying in for sports or other things --
my older brother's face. He was sixteen
which made him four years older than I was
but he much smaller. I remember when
we went on walks together; he would tell
all sorts of stuff about what grows in woods;
the mushrooms, hidden things you dig for, not
just showy plants, and he could hear the change
of silences in wind, in songs of birds,
and he could walk then, with a little help.
I was the one could understand his speech --
he jabbered all the time -- his drooling way
that bothered others, even mother. That
got worse, and when I came in through the door
his shirt was wet from happiness, so off
it came, the first thing after I got home.
I wiped him dry and got a fresh one. Then
the diaper -- Dad said would I help Mom --
that business would help her out so much
if I would do just that. I did much more...
I helped him eat, play games. He drooled
more when I helped him; he did that to show
how much he liked attention.
Oh, my name
is Tracy although I'm a boy. Do I get teased!
Mom says they like you
when they tease so much.
As my big brother needed me, we went
from one place to another, and we spent
so many hours at the window. Sit and look out,
he said, so much to see from just one spot.
He told me once about a book he read
about somebody playing catcher... played
out in an oatfield. Todd said he would like
to play like that and when I had more time
when I was older a few years, he said
that I should read that book. I guess I will.
That brother that I had would have been great
as catcher had he lived for he was brave.
I guess that's what I want to be, for I
am brave... at least I will be, for my dad
he is a fireman, he saves lives.
Now, that
makes two besides my mother who are brave.
About the oatfield, I don't understand,
And grampa says it's outfield; if you know
the least thing about baseball... must be right
my grampa's never wrong. and Todd, he had
a reason that he wanted me to read
that book... it still is there... I will some day.
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