Nassy Fesharaki

Gold Star - 80,502 Points (Dec 29 / Toronto)

Toothache - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki


Little child
Seven? Nine?
Came to dad, his head down:
“I am sorry…I have lied…”
He said and reminded:
(Meant soccer.)
“They were fast and played far better…”
The boy said, and father remembered.

“I couldn't compete them, get the ball…”
In father’s memory some clouds…
“I told you I was sick, had toothache! ”

Dad hugged him…
Best treat was giving warm caress.
Boy relieved; dad got him out of shame.

Topic(s) of this poem: father and son

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 20, 2015

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