You told me to tell
Your son not this weekend.
You told me you promise to see him
Next Saturday,
And I did.
But now,
In my dreams,
You tell me different.
You tell me to tell
Your son
You love him.
That you love, love, love
Your son.
You tell me to hug him
And kiss him
And that you are gone.
That you left.
You told me you always loved him,
But it never seemed quite true.
Deep down inside I know that
You really do.
I know you always wanted to be
The first
To take him to school.
The one to put three quarters under his pillow
When he lost his first tooth.
To be the one beside his backpack
Before he went to 6th grade camp.
The one to help him with his project.
And first to know his troubles.
The one who showed up for his 8th grade promotion.
The one who sent him off to New York
After graduation.
The one who is still alive to do all those things,
But you're not.
The dad that didn't visited his son on that
One weekend.
That dad.
The one who will never write another birthday card.
The one who failed to survive
And live clean.
The one that left with out a reason
With out an excuse
With out saying good-bye
Because he never even said
Hello.
The one left wanting
And wishing
From above.
Wishing that one more waking moment would exist.
You told me to tell
Your son
You would see him next Saturday,
And I did.
But it is a little hard
When he is just a kid.
And in my dreams you tell me
How you wish you could have
Changed what happened,
Wish you could have walked into
His arms,
Even if
It was
Your last
Time.
