My Papa's Waltz

I really liked this poem. I imagine a little boy who doesn't see his father much because he works a lot and hard, "The hand that held my wrist/Was battered on one knuckle"(9-10). I picture him anxiously waiting for him to come home so he can spend time with him. How beautiful for the two of them to waltz together in the evening, bonding together as they move around the floor. The boy adored his Papa, "But I hung on like death"(3). This waltzing was not easy for the boy, "Such waltzing was not easy"(4), yet he was willing to go through it all so he could spend the time with his father. This was a sacrifice for the boy, I'm sure he knew how much it meant to his Papa to dance, waltzing was probably something the Papa has done all his life and wanting to pass it one to his son. And because of this tradition, the boy was willing to even go through pain "My right ear scraped a buckle"(11). This all leaves a beautiful scene in my mind. "Then waltzed me off to bed/Still clinging to your shirt"(15-16)