I look at him
Illuminated by the dim yellow glow
of warm lamplight
He smiles
reclined and comfortable
in the chair of my youth
His rough unshaven face
carries the lines
of a million good times
His warmth makes
the slightly tattered furniture
look better, more comfortable
He stays up late into the night
telling worn old jokes
still funny
He basks in the love of his family
come to see him
and is warmed
I am carried back
carried to my place
in that chair
Loved and protected
rough whiskers on my skin
always safe with him
Sitting in that chair
always with a laugh
always with a smile
Now the oxygen tube snakes
’round his neck
while he tells stories
But his laugh
is still deep
and loud
The hour is late
and I drink his fine whiskey
that he no longer can
I look deeply
into his sparkling eyes
and know that he will die
But not when he can laugh
and still feel
like a child
……………………….
One of the best, now gone
Happy Father’s day Pops
Eatgrueldog 