in this poem are 12-15
“You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.” (Roethke, 2010)
I am not sure why this line stuck out to me but as I watched my children and thought about our own hard working man (my husband) granted he does not drink but he still has that waltz. It is the waltz of a tired man that still musters the energy to tuck his children in bed.
Reference:
Roethke, T. (2010). My Papa's Waltz. In R. W. Clugston, Journey into Literature. San Diego: Bridgepoint Education Inc.