Teach Me

 This poem hits me right in the feels... I wrote this when my son Jake was a little guy (18 months old, perhaps). He used to stand next to his dad and watch him play his guitar and reach his fat, little hand up to feel the vibration of the strings. I snapped a photo of this and was inspired to write a poem. Then my dear friend, Lisa, did a pencil drawing of the photo. I had them framed together as a Father's Day gift for his dad.

When Jake was 12 years old, his dad passed away. His step-mom gave me the framed art to save for Jake. Fast forward several years... Jake was married, with a young son of his own and that art was hanging in their home. They had a house fire that destroyed everything... well, almost everything. This heirloom piece was salvageable, thanks to the work of a wonderful lady at a local framing shop.

I happened to be visiting Jake when his second child, a daughter, was about the age he had been when I wrote this and I caught a picture of the moment that she did the same thing - reaching up to touch the guitar as her daddy played. 

Jake now has three beautiful children and I have no doubt that he will teach each of them how to play that tune. 💙 🩷 💙


Teach me, Daddy

How you played that tune,

And show me, Daddy

How you hung the moon.


Teach me, Daddy

How to play ball,

Be there for me Daddy,

Each time that I call.


Teach me, Daddy

All that you know,

Teach me now, Daddy

As each day I grow.


You’re my super hero

I’m your Number One

And I love you Daddy…

From your little son.


LR

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