Fathered By Memories

you were a giant to the kids
in the neighborhood,
they used to joke you would hit your head
on the clouds.
memories when, with all your strength
you lifted your car into the sky.
and the day in the pool when you saved her life.
games like red light green light,
when you let us win.
those where the days I don’t remember.

late nights spent playing
football and racing track cars
laughing when you crashed
your laugh was a force
to be reckoned with
along with your anger
but I don’t remember much of that
mournful days spent reading letters you wrote for work
hearing your voice on the church choir cassette.

to the days of your demise
I wanted no other father
I learned about you through mom
she said you gave me advice,
when I was only six
it would be easier to go on without you
if these memories were my own
so I shed a lonely tear and wait
growing up with only memories