For My Papa

Today is just another day with food and family too
And poetry of memories that came because of you

From two of us at Frentz and Sons to fill your hardware needs
To sitting in Montana and discussing cattle breeds

And I’ll concede that ice-cream just keeps popping into mind
Since Dairy Queen’s the treasure that you always hope to find

And I’ll remind of Boardwalks and strolls along the beach
Knowing that the root-beer floats were never out of reach

Then you teached us (maybe taught) to make our own ice-cream
In our basement, in a group, we worked like one big team

And I remember screaming kids running out of breath
Because their loving father liked to tickle them to death

Macbeth is called a play, but is it really fun?
Nothing like a trip to states; a trip you went and won

How ‘bout the sun-filled afternoons sprinting cross the fields
With mom and pops on sidelines; both their feelings unconcealed

Eyes were peeled for baseball, football, soccer too
And wrestling with Grey Wolves and the Olsen/Saber crew

Plus trips to zoos in Detroit and down to FLA
Have aviaries in my mind in some enduring way

Now let’s replay some memories of standout fishing trips
There’s Antigua and the whale swimming by our ship

Or we could skip to Canada and after-dinner bears
And fourteen-hour fishing days forgetting all our cares.

There’s also Lake Michigan. And Caseville with our bay,
Where fishing meshed with jet-ski tricks filled so many days.

Or PA with the Davis’s; their pond with all the bass…
And skunk-cabbage perfume so piranhas all would pass.

And what surpasses diving in a tropic paradise?
That’s the kind of memory that doesn’t have a price.

My life’s been nice to say the least. I owe you many thanks!
To pay you back, if I could, I’d walk a thousand planks.

From silly pranks, to good advice, to Christmas stocking coal,
To Michigan on Saturdays and learning gator rolls…

Then there’s ol’ Cedar Point with its gigantic lines,
And Pops soaking his french fries with a bottle of some Heinz.

Just one more shining memory and then I’ll take a rest;
But corn-dogs and the State Fair … those days seemed like the best.

So if it wasn’t stressed enough, to end, I’ll make it clear;
My father is the reason that these memories are here.

Even my career, my tinkering with rhymes,
Probably came from birthday notes he wrote me many times.

Copyright© 2008, Ken McCardell

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