I dreamt last night
my father appeared
sitting on bleached granite
head in hands, smiling

"How are you?" I asked
"Fine, Buck,just fine"
"How am I doing ?, Pop"
"I'm proud of you" he said

"From where I sit
with privileged view,
you make me proud"
"So, nothings' changed"

He stood dusted his pants
turned to walk
took a few steps
paused, casually returned

Placed his hand on my shoulder
with that "loved one"squeeze
after an eternity searching my eyes
simply spoke these words,

"I love you, son,
always will"

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