to the small poem and the quiet voice within
On this day he wears
the old man’s faded blue cap,
Honor thy Father.
June 29, 2010 at 2:53 am
Here’s the rest of it:
“Ah, but the head that it covered
and the wrinkles it shaded,
and the rare smile that showed
broken teeth, were all in safe-keeping.
Now he has become the father I’ve always
wanted him to be —–privately.”
June 29, 2010 at 3:40 am
Wish I had the cap,
I would wear it all day long,
Except he took it.
June 29, 2010 at 3:27 pm
Along with the comments…poignant.
July 6, 2010 at 3:21 pm
I like to smell the sweatband of an old
hat of mine and I have great memories
of my grandfather who died in 1947.
He wore one of those old blue caps.
July 7, 2010 at 2:06 am
Thirty years ago my old man hung his fishing cap on the coat rack in the cabin, after a night out on the lake catching bass. He passed away before he could return for another weekend. The cap is still there…
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