Hero

Hero

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. His skin was the color of summer and youth, beautiful and smooth and the stuff of a 1970-something Coppertone ad, minus a black Boykin Spaniel. This wasn’t his first day at the pool. He couldn’t have been...

Broken minds and perspective

Chronicled fours years ago as my siblings and I watched my father's slow-motion, heart-breaking end-of-life, this poem stands as one of the most important pieces I've ever penned.  As my heart bleeds words in witness of painful circumstance, I never let...

The watch

Shriveled in his chair like a grape destined for mediocre wine, he looked at his wrist for the 12th time; three minutes later than last time.   The watch, a Timex, was a Father’s Day gift purchased with love and pride and six month’s of baby-sitting...
Living Years, conclusion

Living Years, conclusion

(If you have time, this will probably make more sense if you read it in the order it was written.  Part One,  Part Two)   I wasn’t there that morning When my Father passed away I didn’t get to tell him All the things I had to say Looking back, my...

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