In memory of James C. Bowser who passed away ten years ago today.

Dad’s Shed

I stand at the door of your old tool shed

Wanting to find you there working within.

Bent over a mower with a tool in your hand,

You turn at my voice and give me that grin.

Dad, I have a question.

Hey, Dad I need a hand?

Dad, can I borrow that?

Oh, Dad this broke again.

Then in your coveralls, hands smudged with grease, baseball cap and boots,

You say, “Sure, come on in!”

Suddenly the image fades.

Ten long years have gone by,

Yet still, he is with me now, because of these memories of him.