The Father

“Life sucks. Then you die.” Said a father to his son The father was bored at the son’s baseball game The father never came to another one Only one vacation to the shore Because it rained and the father had no fun There was no money for boy scouts or college The son would have to pay his own way in the long run Every son has goals, desires, wants, and needs The son’s childhood is the farmer planting seeds But without good soil, one can only produce weeds Leaving empty pockets and no proceeds The son dug deep and started to see That’s not the father he wanted to be He laid down better soil for his own family And planted the seed to grow into the giving tree The son, now a father, faces a problem As he lay under his truck There is no pain at first Until he realized he had been struck He could not move at all He was pinned down and stuck He worried about his own son at home His little young buck Years later the accident left his body grinding bone on bone It doesn’t matter to him. The seed he planted in himself had grown He was different than his father, the one he had always known Inside his body screams with pain, yet love is all he’s shown The father lies in bed, but can’t find a comfortable position No sleep; doesn’t matter to him. He is on a mission He keeps going through love, despite his condition It doesn’t matter to him as he feels his own body’s decomposition The father says to his son “Son, this is what I want you to do Make a move on life before it makes a move on you My father never gave me an opportunity Your goal is to dig a hole Plant the seed to exceed And be a better father than what I could be”