Common Ground

Old letters locked away
in forgotten chests;

once there was a chance for you and I,
a chance that we could meet on common ground,
perhaps find a small bit of mutual understanding,
a place not too much me and not too much you,
a place somewhere in the middle,
but now that chance is long gone,
time has grown short,
you are where you are and I am where I am;

with too much space in-between;

still we had some moments,
playing catch in the backyard,
fishing in Canada;

you were my dad
and I was your little boy.

I sometimes wish it could
have been different,
somehow better,
something more,
but it was good enough;

thank you dad,

for being there
when I was not,
for being strong
when I was weak,
for accepting the shit
that was not deserved;

you were always the man

I wish I could have been.
.
.