"My Father "

"My Father "

Greg Budig 2020

I will never be my father. 

Never have been,

never will. 

He was tall, thin and regal.

Very dashing and quite fit.

I am like a pumpkin, often 

awkward, sometimes slow.

He was quiet and assuring,

I am loud and often rough. 

He could always solve a 

problem.  Fix whatever 

needed care. 

I stumble for the answers,

sometimes wondering what

to do. 

His head was filled with

knowledge, mine was 

always filled with dreams. 

He was from a generation  

that was called to go to war. 

I am from a generation 

that always asked for more. 

He owned his own business,

proudly working every day. 

I work for larger companies 

and earn only what they pay. 

No I am not my father. 

Father's Day is bittersweet,

I miss him and his laughter. 

I miss that he was capable 

of making all things right. 

And as I stumble through 

this day, assured of 

who I am. 

I will never be my father,

but I am sure that he is proud. 

The End