FriendBurst Blog

WHAT HAPPENS AFTER MIDNIGHT . . . . .

The hands of the clock
wound ever so close
to the moment of truth,
the hour of midnight,
and Dad paced the floor,
the same path well worn,
wringing his hands
and his heart
as the dark of the night
inched ever closer
toward morn.

On pins and needles
was Dad as he paced
back and forth,
those “wild and crazy” boys,
my brothers alas,
very close to missing curfew,
that magical midnight hour,
AGAIN.

Of course my sisters and I
never gave him cause to fret,
we knew the rules
so much better,
and haven’t forgotten
even yet.

But the brothers
(the eight of them),
not quite so.

Back in the day,
life so much simpler then,
nothing good,
my father always said,
ever, ever, ever
happened after
that sacred midnight hour;
they only happened before.
A simple rule,
not hard to take,
when the lights went out
in our town right around eight.

Or so it seemed
as I look back on it now,
and smile at the antics
my sweet brothers pulled
as they always cut it so close,
Dad pacing the floor
wringing his hands,
waiting for them
to sneak through
the front door
as midnight approached.

And they did.

And Dad to this day
would be so glad to know
and proud of his sons
who remember to this day
those wise words
he’d say.

And they know
and we know
that he knew
of what he spoke –
that nothing,
or almost nothing good
happens outside the front door
after the clock strikes
that sacred hour
of midnight
and that,
at least most of the time,
Father really does know best.

(c) barbara kausteklis 11-23-12

Written for this week’s CPC Friday Fling/
“The Friday Fling Formulates Fabulous Fables.”

http://www.friendburst.com/blog/100322/the-friday-fling-formulates-fabulous-fables/

Thanks always for visiting and commenting.

Big Hugs

~barb~