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A Rope Belt His Dad Wore

a-rope-belt

He walked the long dirt road zigzagging around the pines and Oak trees

he walked everyday---alone,

He was a young dad working in the saw mills---getting little in pay to bring home.


His shirt collar wet with sweat showed a wide ring of embedded dirt,

He dragged his left foot that always hurt.


From a previous accident---saw milling in the Everglades,

His foot was caught between two saw blades.


It took months to heal,

But he was still paid---which was unreal.


The Saw Boss was mean but fair,

With most others---he showed no care.

His body seemed older than his 30 years,

It hurt so badly at times---it almost brought tears.


But a Dad he was---a single parent to boot,

His dead wife’s people never gave a hoot.


So he took care of his little boy unaided,

With the help of his mother whose hair was now faded.


Every Sunday to church they walked,

While little Tomas just talked and talked.

Tomas was now three years old---and very bright,

He asked his Dad---Why Dad—do you always work until night?


His father said--- Son---I pray you never will,

Get your schooling and live high on the hill.


Tomas watched his dad leave early before light,

With his pants held up by an old rope pulled tight.


The picture of his dad walking through the morning darkness in the dew,

Stayed in his heart forever---he knew a dad like his---was very few.

As time passed Tomas left for a higher education,

But the war was coming---he might fight for this great nation.


His Dad waved bye at the train station---with his eyes full,

His son was now a man---a tear ran free---and Tomas took no bull.


He was tired and weary as he walked back home,

For truly now he was all alone.


But his presents on earth will always be felt,

Years later Tomas by his Dad’s graves knelt.


Around the flowers on the coffin was place with great love,

An old dirty rope---attached with a note--- For You Dad in the Above.

My Step-Father was My Daddy

My mother married my step-father two days before I was five years old. He called me his boot--a name that I was proud to own. And, to prove his loving affection for that name; he brought a boot pin at a rodeo and gave it to me.

I still have it. I would love for him to take me shopping because I got what I wanted. It was not like shopping with my mother--I had to buy good study shoes that protected my feet. Daddy let me buy my favorite ballerina shoes.

I was very blessed to have him in my life. He and my mother had two little girls and I had to sweet sisters to teach all my favorites to and love them. And, I still love them. Thank you daddy for being my daddy too.

© 2021 Barbara Purvis Hunter

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