Ode to Generations Raising Fathers

looking around for arms to enfold

for someone to stay

even when i’m old

when i was a wee thing

you’d be my plaything

& as i grew up

you’d gently guide me

with kind words, encouragement, protection

but mostly your time

i would be yours but

mostly you would be mine

you’d give me your whole heart;

a precious commodity

easily won

by all of your daughters

& all of your sons

you’d call me darling

& let me fall to pieces

at your feet when my heart

ahurtin’ & bleedin’

you’d kiss my forehead

& all’d be blurred

i’d remember my importance

my mind reassured

& when i married

you didn’t give me away

but adopt a new kin,

the kind that would stay

beside you to walk

careful & mindful

to learn how to impart love

in a way not prideful

you walked with us both

through life & then

your quiver grew fuller

with many gran’children

whom you were their old playingthing;

you romped & explored

sometimes in the oak trees,

other times on all fours

i looked for you

year after year after year

needing you to love me

& draw me in

just when i thought

a father’s love couldn’t be found

there you were in my sons

& this mother is proud