Today
Today was my father's birthday,
he would have been ninety-three,
but he's been gone for thirty-eight years now,
too soon taken from me.
I was my father's shadow,
went everywhere with him,
clutching his pant leg in shyness,
like an awkward third limb.
He never seemed to mind, though,
my constant grip and hug,
his colleaques would often tell him:
"You can't deny her, Doug."
As I grew older, I stayed by his side,
and learned some interesting things,
like how to build bookshelves,
and fix a broken sink.
He taught me poems and obscure words,
the Iliad in ancient greek,
a smattering of russian,
one of many languages he could speak.
His face is clear in my mind's eye,
as if no time had passed,
And never does a day go by,
that I wonder how long pain can last.
Happy Birthday, Daddy, we should have shared years,
instead of a void, a gaping hole,
yours in your brain from a bullet,
and mine deep in my soul.
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