Dad I Can Still Smell Fried Chicken




I can still smell

Your fried chicken

I swear you made the best!

And Buttered popcorn

On the stove.


I can still hear

Time in a Bottle

And Bad Bad Leroy Brown

Playing on that Black Stereo,

Back when Stereo’s still had record players.



I remember

Sunday afternoon rides

In an old yellow station wagon

Full of kids

Only two your own

The rest were the neighbors.



Dad I remember

Spring Hikes

And Summer dips

In the lake

sitting in the back

Of your old beat up

Orange truck.



Dad I remember

Book stores

And ET 

I wore the tape out

So many times

You ended up

Buying three.



I remember

That old Nixon Camera

And those photographs you use to take

Always admired your ability.



I remember

Discussions on poetry,

And why you write

And why I write too.



I remember

And I love you.


Copyright Michelle R Kidwell


1:45 A.M


From your Rugrat 😀


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