To Dad

As I hold your gnarled hand,

I think of the days when the grip was strong.

When you taught me to swing the bat,

As well as that one time you slapped me hard,

For lying was something you could never tolerate.

 

As I gaze at your wrinkled face,

I will you to open your eyes

And just this once talk to me.

You look so frail surrounded by machines

With tubes snaking around,

like a tightening noose.

I feel my breath catching in my throat

And as I choke back that sob,

You return my grip.

The light might have faded from your eyes

But they still twinkle at my sight.

You pat my hand, give a lopsided smile.

 

And I know alls right with the world

I may be on the verge of granddaddyhood

But I am not ready to bid you goodbye

You may think you are not of much use

But I think I would like you around

For a few years more.

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