To Kill A Mockingbird

Our father
He was old, nearly fifty
Father didn’t do anything:
He did not work in the drug store,
He was not the sheriff.
He did not farm
Or arouse any admiration.
Nearly blind in his left eye,
Left eyes were the finches curse.
He sat in the living room and read,
From his right eye.
He never went hunting,
When he gave us air rifles,
He wouldn’t teach us to shoot.
He’d rather we shoot at tin cans,
Or all the Bluejays.
For it is a sin to kill a mocking bird.

Vera