My Dad So Grand
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Just a simple poem to honor my Dad. He is 87. We had a nice family time, yesterday, at a Hibachi grill, watching the food flame up, be entertained, and of course great steak, seafood, fried rice ad lots of veggies. Dad had a great time, but always with a few tears, missing Mom, but also knowing how much his children love him. I know I am blessed.
My Dad! My Dad with hands so grand
whether shapely straight as a clarinet
or conical as a saxaphone. He blows
through a woody-reed, his tongue
not lashing at us, but conditioned
to musically relay his love for us.
My Dad! My Dad with hands so grand.
They put together a Hammond organ.
His feet so cheerfully press the pedals,
his fingers twinkle across the keys.
Whatever instrument, he sings to us;
his voice good enough for us. Occasionally,
my Dad would get mad, lash out, but
it was not his habit. He is compassionate.
He’d keep quiet, and quietly entertain.
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2025
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