Dad Laugh (Poem)

Dad isn’t dead.
Matter’fact, heard his laugh today during the, RDCWorld upload, the Frasier show,
and when my lady and I,
during our daily horseplay endeavor,
both saw me
accidentally
fall off the bed.

’Twas confirmation
his hearty and chunky chuckle never played red —
his laugh’s soul never fled,
no matter how much it bleeds/bled.

Alcoholic-induced pneumonia
never stepped on a
scintilla of his
abilities
to hydrate a forest of petrified trees,
when he puts that Texarkanic-infused, hickory-embalmed, Mesquite-marinated, and, yet, tender twang
up on ya.

His bellow trembled the whole
household,
as all shingles confessed and told,
and the 37 me now reproduced what the house pieces conveyed at 7-years-old.

Admittedly,
it startled me.
From my own chords, did it originate?
If it didn’t, for how much am I destined to share in his fate?
When most sons and daughters first heard it in themselves,
I’m sure, they relate.

But, is that not just it?
Sons and daughters have sons and daughters that will have that same laugh.
What about when it comes to first steps — and first missteps, first times they see you screw up, first times you tell them about your own first times,
and when you reminisce with their sons and daughters
about every embarrassingly incriminating detail
about when you were their father’s father?

But, is that not just it?
When he laughs via me, I’ve no doubts; I’m just proud.
It is I and you who who’ll see to it
such laughs are legit.

From the Soul,
T.S.P.

📕“Dad Laugh” is a piece from my upcoming published anthology, “Return from the Pale Trail: Gifts to Humanity We’ve Been Taught to Forget.” I’m ecstatic to share this wonderful piece of literature with the family. I hope you all enjoy. Until then, feel free to check out my other published materials.