Special Times
by louis gander © 2009

My heart pumps harder every beat.
Sweat runs faster in the heat.
The sidewalk, our familiar beat,
as dad enjoys the warming heat.

I'm swamped with work, my patience thin.
I do my best - but cannot win!
His lungs are weak, his face is thin,
but with our love, we always win.

I must be prompt - and on a dime,
but I'll be late. There isn't time!
He's broke and no one spares a dime -
but jointly - precious is our time.

The meeting started half-past-ten
and now I will be late again!
The time we spend, we rate a "10"
so I'll return - again, again.

I'll be late. I think, "Oh, well."
Trouble, I can always spell.
I know the plastic handles well -
"Father, should we stop a spell?"

Small weeds in cracks on sidewalk die,
as I fly past, I run them by....
The flowers seem to never die.
We smell those flowers - not pass by.

The elevator, I jump on,
the second floor, I push upon.
We rested some, so we walk on -
Us, others fix their gaze upon.

Finally there, alone I stood -
I saw him stare (this isn't good).
Along my dad, I faithful stood -
enjoying life - as this is good.


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