Father’s Sunsets

A poem to my father

Bradley J Nordell
Scribe
Published in
2 min readMay 17, 2024

--

Photo by Melvina Mak on Unsplash

There were days I couldn’t wait for sunset
to come and Father to go to sleep.
Maybe he’d run out of beer or finally
crash on the couch after yelling at the ref.
Eventually though, turning to us,
That anger was a gluttonous bastard.
I’d have to tip-toe across
the creaky floor to my room.
Sending out telepathic prayers
to dead saints.

--

--

Bradley J Nordell
Scribe

Author, poet, quantum physicist, photographer, explorer of the mind and imaginary worlds. New book "The Second Sky" is available now!