A Poem For Daddy

August 21, 2010






I looked out my kitchen window

and I saw coming up the road,

an old man in an electric chair

straying not to far from home.

He comes this way most everyday

after making rounds about the town,

to share the news he's gathered -

he starts spreading it around.

He doesn't always get his stories straight

and he never stays too long.

He just lets you know what he thinks he heard

and then he travels on.

He's always in his overalls

with a dirty ole cap upon his head,

and occasionally he'll be wearing

the jelly from his bread.

Sometimes he brings along advice of

to him what just looks wrong.

Sometimes he's just been thinking

or has a job for you to do,

or he tells you 'bout his aches and pains

and complains of his age too.

Perhaps something compells him

to share a story now and then

of something he once did

or places that he's been.

Tears will well up in his eyes

if he speaks about his kids.

Of all the things the years have given him

he hasn't much to show

'cept for the son's and daughter's,

that's one thing that he know's.

Cause, they'll throw their arms around him,

to them he's not so bad,

and he knows they really love him

every time they call him "Dad".



by Susan Holmes