A tribute to my father

You made provisions
for my capricious notions.
You listened to my dreams and desires
and you made them available to me.

You encouraged my steadfast
love for drawing, by driving me to the
big city where lessons were taught
in an old creaky house filled with the
smell of turpentine and linseed oil.
Chalky pastel creations were strewn about
the floor where Mrs. Cohn empowered
a talent as large as her body.

I watched ice skaters on TV.
They leapt and twirled and I was
mesmerized by their beauty.
Once again, you traveled to the
city and found a rink where I
could lace up white shoes with
a shiny blade that caught light
and reflected my desire to glide
across the beautiful smooth surface.
My small body was thrown high above
the silky ice and came down to
fill the cold blue-white with blood
that ran onto the frigid floor.

My love affair with horses created
a longing that you knew was in my heart.
Ranches on Sunday afternoons and
hours for satisfying my need to fly on the
back of a glorious creature.
Years of Sundays you gave up for me.
You made home movies for posterity.
My long hair flowing in the breeze.
Strawberry blonde, like the color of the horse.

Then there were summers of camp,
where you loaded my footlocker
into the car and took it to my cabin.

You took that battered footlocker
to college.
Four years you traveled up the
hollow echo sound of a concrete stairwell.
You were still young and strong.

You were not easily convinced
that I needed material things.
You didn’t supply my every want
for objects that so easily disappeared.
But you were the dream provider
and those memories will never go away.