He opens the door,

The inky night greets him outside,

After a repetitive hug and a simple goodbye,

He parts in the white car

Matching license plates,

On his phone and the car,

We send each other a couple of texts

Before takeoff.

 

He lands,

As the sun rises,

He grabs his bags and tries

To wake up,

But his eyes just won't open,

It’s the third time this month,

That he has switched time zones.

 

She goes to work,

As the son goes to school,

Its two of them,

Living in a house for 5,

The son comes back to an empty house

As the mom comes back to a disorganized one,

He calls them daily,

As at least one of them responds.

 

A passion for photography,

Not his job,

He captures moments,

Of people wearing clothes from the 1900’s,

Of confederate Flags dancing in the wind,

Front porches are their stage,

Of rural roads leading nowhere,

Of vivid college football fans,

Painted in blue and yellow,

He sends these pictures,

Daily,

He posts them online,

For the world to see,

He sends them

Through the family group chat,

He receives compliments.

 

He parts as the white car arrives with

A license plate with a blue and yellow background

We send each other a couple of texts,

Before takeoff,

He arrives into town,

As the sun goes down,

He patiently waits,

For a warm welcome,

And a “Thank you dad!”

That is not loud enough,

He can barely hear it,

Muchless see it.

 

He is a rock,

He is intellectual,

He is tough,

He is sentimental,

He is my friend,

He is my Dad.