My Dad is
breaking my heart
playing
“Liverpool Lou”
on a little itty bitty
harmonica.
I no longer know
what age I am
travelling down
to Cork on a train.
Just a magical
time of being!
My Dad is
breaking my heart
with the beauty of his playing
the beauty
of his being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem