Dad Loved His Boat

Dad Loved His Boat

A Tribute to Don Riggs

 

I remember being sixteen

My father owned a boat, thirteen foot, mahogany plywood.

His old five horse Johnson motor ran because Dad tuned it well.

I understood his boat and outboard were prize possessions.

My father owned a boat, thirteen foot, mahogany plywood.

It carried him and me over many miles of river and lake.

I understood his boat and outboard were prize possessions.

Dad was proud of the boat and confident in the Johnson motor.

It carried him and me over many miles of river and lake.

When I was eleven it sailed us through monstrous Canadian waves.

He was proud of the boat and confident in the Johnson motor.

Dad trusted the motor with the lives of our family.

When I was eleven it sailed us through monstrous Canadian waves.

When I was sixteen I hinted about the canoe.

Dad trusted the lives of our family to his motor.

He loved the boat, but he loved his son more.

When I was sixteen I hinted about the canoe.

Dad sold his boat, his prized possession.

He loved the boat, but he loved his son more.

He sold his boat and bought a canoe.

Dad sold his boat, his prized possession.

No hesitation, he sacrificed for me.

He sold his boat and bought a canoe.

On that day, my father professed his love to me.

No hesitation, he sacrificed for me.

Dad taught me generosity.

On that day, my father professed his love to me.

He led me on a life-path of altruistic giving.

Dad taught me generosity.

He gave all he loved for his son.

I followed his life-path of altruistic giving.

As I remembered being sixteen.

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