An octogenarian vagabond, my father
Traversing the North American continent alone in both directions
His steed is his automobile
No itinerary, no motel reservations, no calls home
His joyful Whitmanesqe spirit
Relishing life as he enthusiastically sings to her
Yes, yes, I am the King of the Road!
Endnote: This poem is dedicated to the memory of my father, a true King of the Road, and to my favorite niece, Karen, who loved her Pom. His journey reminds me of this verse from Goethe: “Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.”
I had a somewhat bumpy relationship with my father. He passed away nine years ago. Time has provided distance and perspective. I can now celebrate all the good special times. And, there were a number of them.
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