Intermission

John John

He was so good we named him twice.
He always wore flannel shirts,
the ones that are really soft.
I would sit beside him, and wait
for his arm to raise and fall around me.
I remember the feel of his hand
firm on my shoulder, he would
rock me, and pat me and ruffle my hair.
The older I got the more he would
struggle to claim his reward of my
giggles. Had I known, I would have
laughed each time. Laughed until I cried.
He died, just when I needed him,
just when I needed him most.
I never got to tell him how I
loved the feel of his hand on my
shoulder, how I thought of him as
more of a father than my real Dad
ever was. And he's gone.
He never married. He had no kids.
There is no legacy left from him.
Only a family who may never have
told him, he was more to us, so
much more than it ever seemed.
He was so good we named him
twice.