Thursday 3/19/09
Poem inspired by Dead Poets' Society
Beads
We were getting ready
to go to church.
I put on decent slacks
and a nice shirt.
My long, curly hair
surrounded my head.
At the last minute
I draped a rope
of beads around
my neck. When I
went downstairs,
my dad said
to get rid of the beads.
I refused. They looked
nice against my plain
shirt. Nothing wrong
with them. "You're not
going to church looking
like a hippie!" he yelled.
"Dad, everyone wears
them!" "Not my daughter!"
It was 1967, just the beginning
of the cultural revolution.
Tears in my eyes,
I took the beads off
and went to church
like a good girl.
But that evening
instead of going to CCD,
I met my boyfriend and we went
parking. I draped my beads
over his rear view mirror.
2 comments:
LOL, your dad meant well I guess?
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