HIS FEET

After her mother died she watched her father begin to fade away.

He was always a quiet man, reserved, polite…soft spoken.

but now he hardly ever said a word…she could see his heart was broken.

 

When he did speak…it was only in whispers…he told her silence was his choice.

He did not want a sound…any sound…to muffle the memory of her voice.

 

When she asked him why he stopped his morning walks…he smiled,

“I am happy sitting here…thinking about her.”

“Besides,” he smiled, “my feet aren’t as trustworthy as they used to be…It seems they don’t know where to go without her.”

 

She stopped by every day to comfort him…the father she adored…but with each visit he seems a little sadder…a little older…he seemed to fade away a little more.

 

Until the day she came and found him in his favorite chair…his favorite place…he’d gone to be with her mother…and for the first time in a long time…he had a smile on his face.

 

“Goodbye, Daddy.” She said kissing his cheek…then laying her head inside his palm…”Have a safe trip…and when you get to Heaven…say Hi for me…to Mom.”

 

Then glancing down she smiled through her tears…as she whispered, “I’ll miss you Daddy…but I am happy knowing…even though it took a while…you’re feet know where they’re going.

 

 

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Dalton's picture

I must say, you seem to have

I must say, you seem to have perfected the long lines and dot dot dots. Reading your poetry never fails to be a very calm, soothing experience. You fill a page with profound grace. I would wrap myself in a warm blanket on the couch to read your book.