Childhood with my Father

In summer we spent our days by the canal
-\--\--\--With buckets full of fish
-\-\-just big enough to throw back in
-\-\-\-While dreaming of sweet lemonade in the shade

In autumn we rode our bikes up past the school
-\--\--\--And talked about the world
-\-\-While laughing loudly at ourselves,
-\-\-\-To make up for missing my birthday each year.
-\--\--\--
In spring we played softball, flew kites in the park
-\--\--\--And tended roses while
-\-\-Impatients managed to escape
-\-\-\-The boundaries set by


In winter we walked through Colonial Park
- \| - - \ | - - \|-- \
where dying roses pressed
- \| - \| - \
their thorny fingers to the sky
- \| - \ | - \| - And cross country ski tracks made scars in the snow
- \ | - - \ | - - \ | - -
And bike rides with Dad down impossible hills
- \ | - - \ | - - \| - - Discussing Galileo's learned attempt
- \ - - - \- \ - - \
To take the dimensions of the damned.
- \ - - \ - \ - (Pedalling furiously, it was all a matter

Of mass ratios; dad always reached the bottom first.)

Winter reminds me of days with my dad:
\--\--\--Spent outdoors in the cold.
\-\--My father and I liked to walk through the park
- \ | - - \ | - - \ | - - In summer, spring, and fall
- \ - \ - But memories call to