His Hand in Mine

His Hand in Mine

I never knew my father,
Whether he was kind and good,
Or if he liked to fish,
Or build things from wood.

His face was unknown to me.
I imagined him handsome,
With blond hair and blue eyes,
A god and then some.

All of my friends had fathers.
Some were abusive and mean.
They thought I was lucky,
My sadness unseen.

It was hard to understand
That they would give up gladly,
The one thing I wished for
And longed for madly.

Some dads came to their kids' games.
They yelled, clapped, and were so proud.
Those kids tried much harder
With Dad in the crowd.

But I never knew my dad,
Or felt the warmth of his hand,
Or heard him yell my name
In the home team's stand.

I missed that when I was young,
Yet my life has turned out fine.
I have a young son now,
His hand held in mine.

quatrains
rhyme: abcb, syllabic: 7,7,6,5
28 lines