I Will

Happy Birthday, Dad.

If you were here

I would kiss your face off

and touch your beard

with trembling hand.

I would sing you a song,

and though I am unpracticed

and probably faltering,

I would play you a tune on my piano,

because I know how you love to listen.

I would show you how the kids have grown,

that the boys love their slingshots

and my girl has a tender, quirky heart.

I would go for a walk with you,

so we could talk

and marvel at how the maples

have turned scarlet.

I would be tempted to shower you

with a thousand birthday gifts,

but none of that would matter,

so I would shower you with all my love instead.

But today, in your absence,

your very great absence, 

I choose to make I would, I will.

I will kiss my children's faces off

and touch their golden heads

with trembling hand.

I will sing them a song

and play a tune on my piano,

because I know how they love to listen.

I will show them your picture

and remind them of the things

that made you unforgettable.

I will take them on a walk,

and we will talk

and marvel at how the maples

have turned scarlet.

I will be tempted to shower them

with a thousand store-bought gifts,

but none of that really matters,

so I will shower them with all my love instead.