My dad is a smart man,
Not smart how I am,
Because he doesn’t like to write
And can’t always see my theories
But he can fix anything
And I mean anything
From a broken heart
To a leaky pipe
And he’s always willing to help.
One time I watched him fix a funeral,
With just a page of words
I was wrong, he can write.
He helped us remember
And understand why we loved her.
He fixed that day, because he cared
He kept it from falling apart
For no other reason than he knew he should.
He didn’t get any money,
And she didn’t hear his thoughts.
No one even respected him that day,
Except me, but I stayed quiet.
Why did I stay quiet?
I knew I should have spoken up,
And told him I respected his words.
But I didn’t, and I regret it.
I probably always will.
I like to think deep down he already knows,
That it goes without saying
By the way I watched him speaking,
That he knows what I wanted to say
But never had to courage to.
I know he would have.