Dad

Sitting in his big brown chair,

He quietly recalls his favorite stories,

I see his soft blue eyes and fading hair,

Dad laughs and smiles at his past glories.

 

The great big ship the captain let him steer,

After two long weeks in blinding fog,

Soon it cleared; deckhand pouring a beer,

He grins, absentmindedly patting the dog.

 

He tells of times when I was a child,

His baby girl fast asleep on his lap,

I would roll down his legs, fall to his feet piled,

He retrieves memories from his mind like a map.

 

He repeats the same stories at least once a year,

It’s all alright, these I love to hear,

“I’m the luckiest Dad” he often tells me,

I love him so much, he’s the best there could be.