Wednesday, June 18, 2014

A Poem for My Father


The tallest short man

you’ve ever seen. When I

was six, he was ten feet tall

and he continued to grow

taller, year by year.

His sweat and rough

brown hands paid

for our house, our car,

my clothes, and my fine

college education.

His rough hands

stoked the coal furnace each

winter morning at five—

so I awoke at 6:30

in a warm house.

and now I know

that I can never thank

him for the silent

love of all those

years.

© David Cooper 6/17/14

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