I Remember you, Miss you
There was a time
I was small and held your hand
As I got bigger
I made you let it go
I was a proud boy, to big to hold hands
You were my pap
You said, I understand
I often look back
Wishing I could hold it again
Like I did when I was a little boy
not like when I was older
and you were a dying man
So many years of wasted embraces
As you said I grew into a fine young man
I miss you pap
I wish I was a boy again
Just to hold your hand
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A touching poem to your father, with images full of great evocative meaning. Greetings, @erodedthoughts.
@hive-161465 It's about my pap, not my dad. My grandfather was taken from me at 14 when I was a snot nose little punk who was too much of a dumbass to embrace the love he tried to give. I'd give anything to go back in time for a few more moments with the man. He was amazing from what little I remember.
My parents are still alive but I can see how it could also be taken as my father. Thank you for reading and for your kind comment.