My Papa's Waltz

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

~Theodore Roethke

This poem can be interpreted many different ways, which is one of the main reasons why I like it so much =)

We discussed this poem in English today. One way, is child abuse (which I personally don't understand). Just because the father appears to be drunk, people assume that he is abusing the boy.

But the way I see it, and many other of the kids in my class saw it, was the boy and the father were having fun. They were just dancing and enjoying themselves. This is one of the small moments in life, that you remember when you are old and don't have moments like that with your father anymore.

Peace.

~*::♫♪♥'.victoria.'♥♪♫::*