My Dad

My Dad

Sometimes I hear a voice from times past,

Summer breezes soothing or from winter’s blast.

It’s a time of remembrance I’ve often been told,

Memories of his hands, his face, when he was old.

I’ll never forget how our life was directed,

The days of responsibilities, souls connected.

He’d make us all accept what needed to be done,

He told us what we do shows people where we’re from.

He told us it isn’t money or fame that sets us apart,

Nor houses built on land, or what’s called book smart.

He’d tell us it was what’s within us that makes a man,

And showed us time and again so we’d understand.

He told us to be honest, to be kind, and to be true,

With our dealings with people those old or new.

He told us it was our actions that show who we were,

Not billowy words or preaching or mockery’s slur.

Be who you are so that others can see,

That truth lies within you whether it’s you or me.

Those times of testing will prove who you are,

Whether small or large, untruths you mustn’t swear.

His voice I still hear in my life it appears,

In all that I do or say or what I hold dear.

He’s not here physically to pat me on the back,

But his spirit, his life’s contributions keep me on track.

My Father, a man of limited renown,

Lived in the mountains, never in a big town.

But it wasn’t the surroundings that made him great,

T’was what he taught me, things he gave, my keepsakes.

His face comes up before me each and every day,

A face filled with experience, wrinkles, hair turning gray.

For in the mirrors are the reflections of all that he gave,

My face in the mirror that resembles him some say.

I keep his voice alive within me even today,

As I repeat what he taught me, which words to say.

Keep moving forward and never look back,

He’d tell me ag, again and again, keep me on track.