Written by m ennenbach

father

old spice
the white bottle
with the ship on it
a carton of reds
a case of lite

every year
it was the same

he didn’t ask
for anything

if he wanted it
then
he got it

but every year
he smiled
hugged me
in that back breaking
rib creaking
embrace of his
kissed me
on the head
called me a cow
then said
he loved me

i would give
my left arm
for one more of those
pay whatever price
was asked

instead
i stare out the window
with tears
hot and unwanted
as i think of him

we fought
we laughed
we did all of the things
a father and son do
but not for nearly
long enough
not by a century

i will always
be thankful
i had you
for a dad
always

i love you still

12 thoughts on “father”

  1. Gorgeous, and oddly enough, I used to get my dad old spice every year too until he told me he hated it.

    This year as a nod to that I sent him some Versace cologne.

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