I’m a good packer: everything goes, flat and tidy, into my small
red roll-along suitcase and I manage to get everything in. Yet
I take more clothes than I need … and forget something …
I do not lack
the subtle knack
of how to pack
to fit the rack
on the track
of train or shack
whether red or black
I stuff the sack
with shirt and slack
a sock in every crack
hunt through bric-a-brac
before taking a whack
without breaking my back
at closing the stack
then stop for a snack
A Summer Father … terse, imagistic lines; … It’s not nostalgia that we experience but quiet, poignant grief. Richard Stevenson
HI Joanna, Where are you traveling too?
Hi Holly, We were off to Portugal! Had a great time, the people are incredibly friendly, the food great (we ate fish for every dinner!).
I really enjoyed the poem about traveling. It made me smile!
Glad you liked it. It was a fun poem to write!