To My Father

I walked to the River, were we camped,
I cupped my hands and reminisced
When the water touch my grieving hands,
Of the fishing trip, sitting on that bench.

I sat on the couch where we talked,
I look at the street where we walked,
Your picture is still standing on my desk;
I miss you, even when you were grotesque.

But you’re not there for me any more
To help me, already standing at the door.
You’re still not there for me any more;
To help me stand and not lay on the floor.

I stared at the model planes that we made,
I climbed the back yard tree to the tree house.
I sat for hours thinking about your memory,
Concluding that you were my only first aid.

You’re not there to protect me anymore;
To protect me from evil, for I am yours.
Under the earth will you forever slumber
You were only 42, I surmise it’s only a number.