You’ve yet to speak,
Still you swirl in my thoughts
Like a hungry vulture

I want you to experience Life.

Life that, without your mother, will batter your patience
With the man who tries, to feed you infant formula and pat your back till you
burp,
But can’t fill that tenantless chair, that empty nest of stolen devotion.

Life that will burn the plastic off your lampshade,
that boy will create a crack of sorrow on your heart,
And you’ll call, needing a ride, crying, and I’ll just say that it’s ok
Because now you can understand your father.

Life that will steal you to marriage.
I will stand in line; my right hand a prisoner of war,
my left boycotting this oceanic alliance,
because I’m losing you, my writing hand, to some dude with a Corvette.

Life that will let you be a mother,
that headache from an old testament God,
letting you fill your own chair with your written laughter,

What I want for you is the knowledge that I sit today,
widower and Father,
and praise your life.