Pappy

He use to chase me 'round the house with his teeth in hand.
Never more than a few steps behind me as he confidently faltered along.
Laughter slowin' my voltaic pace 'til he finally got aholda me with those damn teeth,
eyes smirkin' with elation.
Shriekin' and laughin' 'til the tears streamed down my face

and he would say, "Why you cryin' boy?!."
Followed with my giggled response, "I'm a GIRL Pappy!"

He always did that.
With a cunnin' grin capturin' his face he kept on teasin' in his ornery fashion.

He wore a white V-neck T-shirt and worn-out blue jeans every day.
He didn't see much sense in wearing much else.
He had the leathered skin of a farmer.
Tillin' the land in his "big apple hat", shirtless and red.
He had the trained eye of a welder, concentratin' as the sparks flew, cigarette in hand.
His beard was a bit overgrown, white and scraggly, yet perfect all the same.
His lap was where I sat, my hand in his beard, testin' it's coarse texture as he sipped his dark coffee;
Occasionally pointin' out a fluttering Hummingbird or a wiry squirrel, stealin' nuts from bits of fishin' line he'd hung for entertainment.

A farmer as was his father before him.
A welder by trade.
A fisherman at heart.
His language could be course
He was sent overseas to fight with pride
And came back a veteran,
A duty served with no honor desired
An inventor from mind to hand.
A father by nature.
A teacher of life lessons.
A practical joker, facetious with intent.
He set a standard for living.

Father of my father
Fading from my mind