Smartly executed, the perfect salute
My handsome Dad in his Air Force “suit”.
He wore the uniform with so much pride,
He wore it with reverence, it strengthened his stride.
He wore it to parties and meetings and such,
To his work at the Pentagon that he loved so much,
Years passed, we saw the world, then to Virginia returned,
We grew apart, I had grown up, he watched the bridges that I burned.
I fell in love, and eloped, robbing him of his chance
To wear the uniform down the aisle or with his daughter to dance.
Years passed, he retired, and put his old uniform away,
My parents divorced, so did I, times were sad I must say.
More time passed, I fell in love, planned a wedding with a smile,
I knew at last he’d get his dream to escort me down the aisle.
By then his illness had taken a toll, he was sick but did his best,
And down the aisle he took me, in his uniform he was dressed.
Just two short years from that time, he’d breathe his final breath,
One last time he wore the uniform, as he lay in eternal rest.
I gazed down to whisper goodbye, and I felt that though he’d died,
I was overwhelmed with feeling he still wore the “blue” with pride.
I have a fantasy, I’ll admit, that on the day I leave this life,
As I travel through the fog, leave behind all pain and strife,
He’ll be there at the gates, in his uniform of blue,
Just in time to proudly escort his daughter right on through.