August 29, 2016

Footsteps


As a boy
I split wood for my father,
cut the lawn and polished his shoes.
In the summer before college,
he got me a job on the railroad,
where I learned how to never lose.
At school, I worked part-time
in the hospital,
seeing sickness every day,
everyone around me going crazy,
as I began to make my way,
until I was ready for the corporation,
could lie without losing my smile.
Now, I'm finally retired, 
having earned my anonymous face,
father always in my rear view mirror,
trying to put me in my place,
on this road we've traveled together,
following in his footsteps,
getting forever closer,
mile after mile.