I swim in the mind of my father,  a pool with endless useless facts.

I read from his bookshelf because he always has the knowledge I lack.

Hes a  bird because he is up early to provide.

a rock because in him I confide.

Thoughts like fresh snow because his intentions are always pure.

He is a fresh cup of coffee because he can be bitter in the mornings.

Like a new pair of glasses, he helps me see things from a different view.

Our couch aches and squeals when he lays down because it knows he will be there for hours.

His old shoes smell from age, his feet ache with pain from the rubber soles that have all worn away.

He lights his cigarette and looks at me,

“promise me you will never smoke.”

His happy hands hard like wood from a tree..

His steady stares say so much

His glances say nothing.

His head hangs high proud from hard work.

My father is a brick house, built sturdy and strong.

His lectures are like the football games he enjoys because they go on for hours.

Hes is a tower because he is so tall.

My father is clothes because he is so comforting.

My father stuck around because he wanted too and he can.

My father is  living instructions on how to be a true man.