<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=565006" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Father Died</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the middle of the summer, <br>when I was twenty-two<br>and wore sneakers with no socks<br>and was growing my first beard, <br>my father died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the middle of the summer, <br>when my son was one years old<br>and lay in his playpen<br>in the hardscrabble grass of the backyard, <br>making living sounds<br>and grabbing for fistfuls of air, <br>my father died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the middle of the summer, <br>days before somebody walked on the moon, <br>days after the bright-colored beginnings<br>of my daughter's life, <br>my father died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the middle of the summer, <br>when, as a father, <br>I first sat out on the porch past midnight<br>listening to the haunting, faraway comfort<br>of late-night, west coast ball games, <br>and the tender wisps of breathing of my own two babes, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">in the middle of the summer<br>when I first had trouble sleeping, <br>and before we had the luxury to know <br>each others' hurts and hollows, <br>hopes and heartaches, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">in the summer of 1969<br>(several sad and sorry seasons<br>beyond the end of his living) , <br>my father died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As did, <br>as did a part of his boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Will+Thomas">Will Thomas</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=565006" data-title="My Father Died de Will Thomas" data-description="In the middle of the summer, when I was twenty-two and wore sneakers with no socks and was growing my first beard, my father died. In the middle of the summer, when my son was one years old and lay in his playpen in the hardscrabble grass of t..."></div> </div> </div>

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