Quill & Parchment: Joy

Joy
by John McCluskey

My father spent one teen-aged
Christmas in a Chicago hospital. TB.

A blizzard rolled in on the wheels of the wind.
Dropped its white cloth in a heap.

Streetcars did not run.
Nobody could visit.

My father spent one teen-aged
Christmas in a hospital. Chicago.

He heard gurneys wheeling down the hallway.
Streetcars did not run.

He saw white sheets pulled up over heads.
Snow lasted through the night.

He heard somebody die.
Snow lasted through the night.

My father had TB.
My grandparents couldn't make it in.

The blizzard covered the city head to toe.
Next morning children sprouted up through snow.

Children dotted alleys with new morning glee!
I am so happy for my father,

I should tell him so.
I should have told him

Thirty years ago.
Never will.

Just think
I should.

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