My Father and I
In the golden haze of the afternoon,
With summer sun and fading light,
We carved our hours in leather gloves,
And chased the sphere in joyous flight.
You tossed the baseball, spiraled deep,
The football arcing through the air,
A sacred bond of sweat and smiles,
When you have time to meet me there.
The years rolled by like rolling tides,
The games grew scarce, the pace grew fast,
But in the quiet after work,
We found a shelter in the past.
With tired hands and easy chairs,
We spoke of seasons, lost and won,
Reliving every shining play,
From when the day was just begun.
Now sitting on the shaded porch,
As shadows stretch across the lawn,
I see the coach, the guiding light,
The hero that I leaned upon.
No matter where the road may lead,
Or how the ticking clock may chime,
My favorite memory of the years,
It is simply you, making time.
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