My Papa’s Waltz is full of symbolism that supports the premise that My Papa’s Waltz is above all a love story told through the eyes of a loving child, a son. 

In the first stanza of the poem, one learns that the father had been drinking and is perhaps intoxicated, but this is open to interpretation, and despite his father’s revolting breath, the son willingly takes part in the ritual, which lends credibility to the thesis that the boy desires this interaction with his father. The phrases, “hung on like death” (Roethke) and “such waltzing was not easy” (Roethke), although deceptively negative in connotation are arguably mere references to the nature of waltzing, which is a dance formed at a triple beat, any small child would struggle to keep up with a waltzing adult. 

The second stanza reveals playful terms and a disapproving mother, although for trite reasons. 

We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. (Roethke)

As previously discussed the waltz is a quick dance that was perhaps performed even quicker, given the jovial nature of the father due to what is arguably his normal bedtime routine, “then waltzed me off to bed still clinging to your shirt.” (Roethke), with his son, which is of course aided by the effects of liquor. “My mother's countenance could not unfrown itself” (Roethke), lends credibility that indeed this is a normal evening routine that this evening was performed with more strength resulting in misplaced pans. I would not look at this line from the perspective of child abuse. When someone is viewing something “cute” they might sometimes frown as a natural reaction. This does not mean the mother are sad about what is happening. Most importantly, the first line, “we romped”, is defined as frolicked and played and directly refutes the idea of abuse. I interpret the phrase “we romped” as a time of horseplay. Nothing too serious but just a time to unwind for both the father and son at the end of the day. 

The third stanza is the most difficult to refute claims of abuse; however, close analysis will show both a father’s love for his son and a son’s love for his father. The phrase, “the hand that held my wrist” (Roethke), is a harmless reference to a parent’s attempt to hold a child’s hand when the child’s hand is too small to hold. The fact that the parent’s hand is referenced as being “battered on one knuckle” (Roethke), and then later “with a palm caked hard by dirt” (Roethke) lends credibility to the idea that the father is a hard-working man who cherishes this evening ritual with his son. I interpret that the father is a blue collar worker who maybe doesn’t have a lot to give his family, and he cherishes the little things that he does have and the moments that he can control. Lastly, the phrase, “at every step you missed my right ear scraped a buckle”, lends credibility to the idea that the son is indeed small, his ear reaching just to his father’s belt buckle, and that the boy despite suffering occasional pain willing engages in the waltz with his father, who probably labors in the fields all day; the boy most likely welcomes this evening ritual, this evening “romp”, as he loves his father and desires his attention. 

The fourth and last stanza, 

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)

finalizes my argument that, indeed, My Papa’s Waltz is a love story between father and son. “You beat time on my head” (Roethke), expresses a father’s sheer enjoyment of the event as he mimicked the waltz’s three beats per bar on his son’s head. Lastly, and most revealing, we learn that the son was waltzed off to bed still clinging to his father’s shirt, telling the reader that the event was enjoyable for the boy and that he did not want it to end. 

Lastly, Theodore Roethke lost his father to cancer at age fifteen which strongly lends credibility to the idea that My Papa’s Waltz is an homage to his father who he lost early in life. Structurally, the poem is written in iambic trimeter, three sequential periods of unstressed and stressed syllables which emulates the beat of a waltz with its three beats per bar; however, the author purposely and regularly disrupts the iambic trimeter throughout the poem turning it into a ballad, or story; a love story. 

In conclusion, My Papa’s Waltz is a love story between father and son told through the eyes of a young boy. The premise that the poem is indeed a love story is proven through literary symbolism, author knowledge, and structural content. 
