daddy’s hands would hold mine when i was afraid,
fix my bike chain when it was loosened,
fold together in mealtime prayers, or
show me how to move chess pieces
yes, i have my father’s eyes
bluish-green or greenish blue
framed by long lashes and able
to see another’s point of view
as a teenager, i’d protest:
“papa, don’t preach!” but
that didn’t slow his sermons on
following everybody off a cliff
daddy could swear, i declare,
he swore in dutch at car engine
when i asked what those words meant
he commanded, “go to the house!”
no one could tease or make
me laugh as much as dad did;
every grin and guffaw conveyed
message, “your daddy loves you!”
A father poem, including song titles, linked to dVerse poets pub.
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