Ode to My Father's Truck (poem) by Nan C Loyd on AuthorsDen

Ode to My Father's Truck
by Nan C Loyd → (All Poetry by Nan C Loyd)
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Memory of my late father
Everywhere I look I see traces of my dad but never so much as in the truck he left behind And although I know I’ll never forget him or who he was or what he looked liked because he’s captured in photographs It is most obvious in the truck he left behind Maybe that is why I never moved these little traces of my dad, the bottle of motor oil, his notebook with his handwriting his hat – his tools – his battery cables - his gloves Because every time I get in the truck I am enveloped by traces of my dad and it is as if he never left me behind If I sit still and quiet, closing my eyes in the hush I can almost see his hand on the steering wheel and almost hear him say “Let’s stop at Hardy’s for a biscuit.” These traces of my dad. Maybe that’s why I never moved these traces of my dad they remind me that he was just here these traces of my dad I miss him 2008 © Nan C

Reviewed by Madeson Penny

Reviewed on September 13, 2010

Excellent and moving. What better way to start out the day - bawling like a baby. :)

Reviewed by Paul Judges

Reviewed on November 9, 2009

Lovely tribute, Nan

Reviewed by John Domino

Reviewed on August 14, 2009

We miss those special folks who touch us. A wonderful tribute to your dad.

Amen

Reviewed by Annabel Sheila

Reviewed on May 27, 2009

Lovely tribute to your father. My dad's been gone for 12 years, and I miss him like the day he left. Good job Nan.

Anna

Reviewed by Lois Christensen

Reviewed on July 26, 2008

Am right there with you in missing my Dad. I always went with him and sat in the back seat when a child as if to say He's my chauffer.
He didn't mind, I did not mind. I was my fathers sidekick he'd tell others. I had such good times with him. Mother was the disciplanarian in our family and Dad and I were the ones who stuck together against her if we could. He was a very good man, my dad and handsome besides. Have photos to relate to him when needing memories.

Reviewed by Linda Law

Reviewed on July 11, 2008

I know you miss him...like Cryssa misses her mom; and I miss both of mine, my son, my precious mate, and on and on it goes... You know, sometimes we don't have to "move" to "feel" them near....but sometimes we have no choice....but remember this.... wherever you are..He is! My late hubby used to tell me about my first granddaughter... She is the spittin image of you thru and thru...and as long as she lives...you live! I thought about that, and it spoke volumes... We are a part of those we love and so on... I love this poem very much... very very much. Lindalaw

Reviewed by Cryssa C

Reviewed on July 10, 2008

I know the feeling...There I things I just don't move because they contain traces of my mother.

Cryssa