Dad, You Didn’t Have to Say, “I love you.”
I knew, by the way
you worked hard in the steel mill
and in the
garden to put food on the table.
By the way you let
me sit on your lap
and showed you
how I could count to 100.
By the way you
read me stories in your monotone.
By the way you
taught me how to fish.
But the way you
teased me by doing things
like putting
orange peelings between my toes.
By the way you
hollered
when I was
doing something wrong.
By the way you
put up with my teasing you
about being
bald or grumpy.
By the way you
wore a pained expression
when I broke up
with my first serious boyfriend.
By the way you
walked me down the aisle
even after a
recent surgery.
By the way you
cried
when we had to
return home from a visit.
You never said
the words,
but you didn’t
have to.
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