Letter to Mom & Dad

Derek "Cheese" Keen in Afghanistan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letter To Mom & Dad

Dear Mom and Dad,
Don’t cry for me.
Shed not a single tear,
For time to weep has passed.

I know it hurt you
Because you were not there
In my last fleeting moments.
But I was not alone.

An angel of light quietly
Slipped into my room,
And called out my name.
I answered, “Here am I.”

Jesus sent an angel band
To take me on to home
Think instead of the times
You both were there for me.

The times you took us all
To Little League and football games.
When I heard Mom’s voice from the stands
Shouting, “Go Cheese go!”

Dad, you gave your life to the highway
To put sneakers on my feet
And food on the table.
As I grew to be a man.

And man did I grow?
Knowing you were proud of your boys.
Knowing how much you loved us,
How much we loved you.

I remember Mom dressing us
In our little brown and grey suits
And driving us to Walmart
To get our pictures taken.

Mom you always had a camera,
Picture after picture of us
Grinning like possums,
And we knew you were so proud.

Dad taught me and my brothers,
How to fish and to hunt and
To love pickup trucks and music
In the living room on a Saturday night.

Dad, I heard you say,
“He was my soldier.”
But Daddy you were my hero.
And you will always be.

You two raised a soldier,
A poet and a fireman.
Not bad for ordinary people
Not ordinary but extraordinary.

Well done, you two, your hearts
Filled with love for each other.
You taught your sons to love and now
You’re teaching grandkids just the same.

The angel came and took my hand
“But Mama and Daddy will be sad,
That they were not here,” I said.
“Fear not,” the angel said as angels do.

“You’ve been so long in this bed.
Jesus has seen your suffering.”
“Enough,” He said, “It’s time to go.”
These angels here will bring them through the days ahead.”

“Come home, my boy.” He said as I drifted
Off to sleep and in the twinkling of an eye,
I'll wake whole and young again and
We'll be going straightway home.

Don’t be sad for me. I’ll be waiting,
Through birthdays, holidays and celebrations.
I’ll be in your hearts just where I’ve always been.
Cheese is signing off for now………

                                  But not forever.

Love,
Aunt Sheila & Uncle Tom

The Little Man at the Bottom

\

Can I hold the ladder for you Dad?

I want to stand at the bottom and look up,

And see the steps you’ve taken to get to the aerie heights

Where you conduct your business.

Can I catch the seam of your trousers, Dad?

I want to walk as quickly as you do

With that firm step that says you know

Exactly where you are going.

Will you pick me up Dad?

I’m getting a little tired down here,

And need to rest my head against your chest,

Where it is safe and warm and comforting.

© 2018 by Tom King

April 21 - Mouths Wide Open

Mouths Wide Open

by Tom King

Mama bird cussed me out today

I got too near her hungry brood.

Her babes have hatched she didn't say

I knew it by her attitude.

She doesn't mind so much when I

Go out to water the flowers and plants.

She calmly watches me pass by

With my dripping plastic watering cans.

I, beside the planter, left her a bit of seed,

But now the eggs have hatched that she has lain;

The nest is filled with hungry mouths to feed.

And she'll no longer tolerate my artificial rain.

She sits, a bit of seed held in her beak

And chitters angrily at me - no song

From a nearby branch she'll chirp and squeak,

At me till I consent to move along.

Five open mouths wait for their mama there

Packed cheek to cheek they cheep and call,

Open-mouthed, demanding mama's instant care.

And I remember what it was when ours were small. 

   

It's seems we moms and dads were always shoving

Food or drink down open mouths; taking them to pee

They demanded time, energy, and unconditional loving.

And we were as tired as mama bird must be.

Were we ever such tiny hungry mouths to feed?

All day did our poor mamas stumble back and forth,

Till she had tended to her childrens' never-ending need,

 And gave and gave again for all that she was worth.

I left more seed this blustery afternoon so she,

Would not have to fly so far to feed her bunch.

And then I called my mother just to see

If maybe she would let me take her out to lunch.

© 2016 by Tom King

I Wonder What Stories She Tells

I know the stories I've told about my Dad

My kids do too – I've told them often enough.

But this morning while I was riffing on the old man's foibles

It struck me.  I wonder. Does my daughter tell this kind of stuff

                                                                 ………….on me?

I know the stories I tell about when I was a kid.

My Mom never knew some things I did back in the day.

If she'd known what I was doing she'd have been horrified.

I wonder, when my daughter tells her stories would they

                                                                   ……horrify me?

I know the stories I tell about my kids when they were young

My kids were there and, when I tell them, off they go to hide.

They complain when I tell stories; don't think they're all that funny.

I wonder if, when I'm not around, they tell their own side

                                                                    ….of those same stories?

My daughter is too much like me, quick witted, opinionated and stubborn.

Like me, she lives her own life the way she chooses, free and wild.

But now I'm old enough to look forward to the stories she once hid from me,

I expect that, when I hear them, I shall discover that she is truly a child

                                                                            ………...of mine?

© by Tom King