Son of His FatherA Poem by Chris Shaw
mild and moderate November
early sun yawns sleepy eyed peeps through veiled cloud casts golden on fallen leaves a garden in waiting shows various states of decay scattered on crazy paving a busy collage on uncut grass green blades smothered fighting for air small boy in Halloween pajamas doesn’t care for his warm coat armed with a too large rake it isn’t cold he says work before breakfast eggs son of his father a pirate in a blue plastic boat a treasure chest afloat on a storm of autumn rainfall so many moons ago wet wet wet © 2025 Chris ShawReviews
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16 Reviews Added on November 18, 2025 Last Updated on November 18, 2025 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more.. |


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