A father and a dad are not the same:One can be a dad and not a father,Or one can be a father and not botherTo earn through love the more endearing name.Some find fatherhood a bit too tame,Leaving all the details to the mother,Or dumping the sweet burden on anotherMan with just a passing twinge of shame.You have been our dad so many yearsThat you've become the landscape that is home,The mountain that we look to from afar.No matter where we go we're not alone,For you remain within to still our fearsAnd be the word that tells us who we are.
How can I touch you when you're far away?A poem is not as salient as a kiss.Poems but poorly presences convey,Perhaps because of all that words must miss.Yet write I must because you are not here,Father farther from my eyes than heart,A face more frequent than it might appear,Tempered by the tyrannies of art.How might I be with you in ways that areEqual to the passion of my yearning,Reaching for a grace beyond the bar'Ere there's any word of your returning.So may the time between us quickly pass,Days of longing that long cannot last,A time when but through words we may embrace,Yet know that soon we will be face to face.
You feel the fortune of your years,I hope. For all your children's loveThis day must bring you happy tearsAnd thoughts that joyful music prove.
I hope, for all your children's love,There is an island, be it small,And thoughts that joyful music proveBeyond what years you may recall.
There is an island, be it small,Amid the passions of the sea,Beyond what years you may recall,Where you in silent grace can be.
Amid the passions of the sea,This day must bring you happy tears.Where you in silent grace can be,You feel the fortune of your years.
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