Love in Waltz, Facts, My Dad's Night Drive, Those Winter Sundays, Digging and Dad I decided to analyze seven poems spoken by a child to his parents. Despite a wide variety of feelings, they all share a theme: the deep and complicated love between child and parent. The first poem, “My Papa's Waltz,” by Theodore Roethke (page 18) presents a clear image of the young man's father, from line one. The "Whiskey" on the father's breath is one of many outward clues that shape a rough image of this uneducated worker, perhaps a European immigrant, as indicated by the "Waltz" in the title (line 1). These traits are not necessarily related. They simply exist simultaneously in the character of the father. Further signs of roughness are his hand, "battered on one knuckle" (11), and "a palm caked with dirt" (14). This is a man who has probably only known grueling jobs. His few escapes probably consist of a drink or two when he comes home from a hard day and maybe something good on the radio. This idea of ​​the father as an unrefined klutz is further reinforced by his actions. His missed steps hurt the child's ear, while the "game" of father and son causes the pots to slide "off the kitchen shelf" (6). As he "beats time" (13) on the child's head we see very clearly that he is quite brutal and careless with the child and oblivious to his environment. All these factors make the boy's mother very uncomfortable. We can see the disapproval in his face, which "could not relax" (8). She is obviously upset but, strangely, does nothing to interfere with the joke that pains her. This suggests that the waltz is fun not just for one, but for both parties. You might wonder why the boy is having so much fun in these moments. This is obviously a crude and uncouth man. It probably doesn't download. It may also smell bad. Are these the reasons for loving your father less? Certainly not in the eyes of a little boy. This young man's father may not be the most sensitive or insightful man around, but he still seems like a hero in his son's eyes. Finally, the son remembers these words: "Then you waltzed me to bed/Still clinging to your shirt" (16). After reading this poem, it is clear how unconditional a child's love is.