Through My Father’s Eyes
I often drift away, as I ponder my life
And try to see the world through my father’s eyes
What did he see when he looked upon his sons?
Did they grow up as he planned or was there something else?
He left us far too early and I never got the chance to ask.
Is he still looking now?
And does he approve?
Does he wear a smile or a frown?
He often sat in his chair and watched the activities around him……
His sons playing guitars and laughing at their mistakes…..
Their wives sitting in the living room, around the fire….
His grandkids running around the house…..
Looking for treasures and secrets hidden by their fathers……
His own wife, busy in the kitchen trying to serve up her finest dinner
And the never-ending football game on the television……..
This was Christmas in Georgia…….and only a faded memory
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