A father

takes his child’s soft, bare hand

into his,

wiry and callused

He places his 

large, rosy lips

to the child’s

tiny ear.

He whispers gently:

Travel to the place where tulips 

in all their colors

bloom in the Spring. 

Where daffodils throw their golden yellow heads in sprightly glee,

as they dance with the winds from the east.

Where you can see all the personalities of the stars,

             glowing up high.

Where the revered great oaks live.

And when I am gone,

place my ashes in the

rich, dark earth.

And watch. 

listen carefully,

as its roots stretch deep into the ground,

and my soul becomes a tree.