When I was young as spring
he took me to the lake
showed me how to thread worms
taught me to wait patiently
for the gentle bobbing tug
of futures dangling from lines.
On weekends of scattered memories
we hunted through wet woods
his quiet steps guiding mine
father\'s whisper near my ear
the patient art of stillness
his hand steadying my aim.
At the zoo between enclosures
we fed purple grapes to monkeys
their small hands like mine
reaching through metal bars
taking what we offered them
a gentle transaction of trust.
In his red Sprite convertible
wind whipping through my hair
steering wheel beneath small hands
his strong arms surrounding me
guiding turns with quiet instructions
laughter spilling into open air.
Now at eighty-seven years
his steps have grown more measured
hands that taught me everything
move with deliberate purpose now
while my love expands further
deeper than any ocean floor.
Weekends were enough somehow
to build this bridge between us
throwing spirals across green fields
catching futures in leather mitts
teaching me without speaking
how love needs no conditions.