Because you asked about my father,
I will tell you he planted apple trees.
The apples were large and worm free,
plenty for pies and applesauce.
For hours he sat in the barcalounger
reading books such as these:
The Radicalism of the American Revolution,
Cosmogenesis, Quantum Reality.
On weekends there was football or baseball.
He collected stamps, played chess, developed
photographs, looked at the stars.
He was happy, the story goes,
to spend his last years isolated,
except for Mom, in a people barren
He must have been lonely. Who
shared his interests? Mom read romance novels.