By John Petersen
His smile so big, no doubt meant for Mommy and me,
I know from what Mom told me he’s in a place not so friendly.
A place where what she calls the ‘enemy’ desires to, for their beliefs, kill,
to keep in place their ancient beliefs and preserve their will.
Daddy is there to ensure freedom for all, this I’m old enough to know,
And I know he’ll continue to do this, for all the years coming as I continue to grow.
There comes a knock at the door…
The days of crying, remembrance, what memories I will never let go,
the picture by my nightlight, and in the living room he defends from all foes.
I know my endless tears will never call Daddy back to comfort Mommy and me,
I know that my Daddy stood up for what is right for everyone, you see.
From what I was told, Daddy never even thought of backing away,
He protected his fellow mates as he would Mommy and I any day.
This is my Daddies flag…
Above the fireplace mantle, surrounded by other items and such,
yet perfectly centered, lightly dusted yet otherwise untouched.
Of all things also on the mantle, just to the right, for all to see,
is the catcher’s mitt my Dad gave to me.
I refuse to move it, forbid anyone to try and do so,
I caught my first ball with this mitt from my Dad’s mighty throw.
He will always be here for Mommy and me, my prayers have told me so,
Our Guardian Angel, in the living room so big, smiling, and bold.