Sometimes you just need to write melancholy poetry about your kids growing up.
Memories in store-bought frames
Stare at me from the walls.
Filled with shades of who you were
In days I still recall.
Days now lost so long ago
To the mirthless squeeze of time.
Stirring in me small sweet voices
That echo only in my mind.
Once I could hoist you like a nothing
And now my muscles strain.
Once I chased you laughing loud
Without a hint of use-worn pain.
Ten years gone by since last you called
Me “Daddy” in that way.
Never to be heard again
For the rest of all my days.
I stare up at you on the walls
And blink back the fondest tears.
Knowing all we have will change
As we march forward through new years.
