My Papa's Waltz
Theodore Roethke

The
whiskey on your breath
Could make a
small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like
death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We
romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not
unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was
battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear
scraped a buckle.

You
beat time on my head
With a palm caked
hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still
clinging to your shirt.

Alternating Rhyme Scheme
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1