Memories

When I think of my Dad,

I look at my boys,
And I see his smile,
As they play with their toys.

Their eyes twinkle like his,
With anticipation and mischief,
And become intensely deep,
With concentration - or grief.

When I'm at the beach,
I hear the stories Dad told,
Of his life growing up,
Near the ocean so cold.

Or if I turn my eye,
To the mountains nearby,
I think of the picnics,
And the snowy slides.

Out on the highway,
And rules of the road,
Safety and family trips,
My memories hold.

But most of all,
As I turn to the Word,
I study and ponder,
Just as Dad would.

He'll always be here,
My Dad so wise,
In the memories I make,
In my children's lives.

~ Sherry