The Daughter. <br /> <br /> Daughter, of the police officer who wore black riding boots, <br />was shining them, a call came he had been killed in traffic <br />accident. She put polish and brush into a cupboard no longer <br /> a slave of a father who used boots as mirrors in the morning <br />when shaving, and if he couldn´t see clearly beat her with <br />a leather strap. Father in his coffin, she polished his medals <br />he looked grand in death. But for the daughter, of the officer, <br />each medal reminded her of the leather lash.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/daughter-34/
