by Marian Veverka
The old stone house was Pa’s house.
You could tell
By the prints his boots made in the carpets
And by the smell
Of tobacco permeated though the halls
And bedroom, especially the curtains and the walls
Proclaimed that “Pa was here” and not so long ago
When he listened to his favorite songs
On his transistor radio…
On rainy mornings the walls will leak
That old tobacco scent
And we can follow Pa around
Every where he went.
Marian Veverka worked part time at the Port Clinton OH public library for over thirty years. Her poems have appeared in many literary journals and magazines. She lives near Marblehead OH, on the shores of Lake Erie.