Daddy had a big overstuffed chair. It was his throne.
One of us sisters, at times, would sit in his chair,
but when we’d see him coming we’d move fast.
He never asked us to get out of his chair.
He’d go to another one, as if he’d sit there.
But we’d insist that he’d take his place.
He had a big place in our hearts.
He slaved at the steel mill,
worked hard in the yard and garden,
hunted and fished to feed five daughters.
He had a sense of humor and teased us,
We teased him about being bald and grumpy.
We may not have verbalized it at the time,
but we knew he deserved his own chair.