I still see my dad the way I did when I was seven
I think I always will
I barely notice him age until I clear my eyes
clear the memories that make up who he is
who he has been to me
run to the door he's home for the night
little girl playing pool he'll teach me right
he wears the necklace we made with beads
make a game of pulling weeds
eyes like grandma's icy blue
consistent and true
welcome me home like they always do
roles these days have been reversed
I walk through the door he hugs me first
the wrinkles around his eyes begin to shape
pain in his hip he tries to escape
yet, I see my dad steady and playful at 43
a part of my memory where he'll always be,
makes me wonder how he sees me
guess I don't blame him that he can't let me go
feels like time should pass more slow
I bet he sees me at 7 years too
the picture with my lips turned candy blue
carry me on his shoulders
strong arms seem like boulders
seven
not old enough to know that our childish fun
will one day be gone
seven
shame I don't believe in heaven.