Friday, June 17, 2011

He Held My Hand

He held my hand and made me look before I stepped into the street
I woke him from an early nap to play a game of catch the ball
He said I better pass my French as we tossed some horseshoes in the heat

Push the clutch, ease the gas, he taught me driving what a feat
Even now after all these years his feats of memory and recall
He held my hand and made me look before I stepped into the street

He noticed things, the little things, that made the difference in the beat
Then all at once from who knows where he’d sing like Clapton six feet tall
He said I better pass my French as we tossed some horseshoes in the heat

One Monday morning, the phone did ring I had to drive for him to meet
And there I was... alone I sat watching doctors in the hall
He held my hand and made me look before I stepped into the street

His arm was sore a month before, it seems his heart had skipped a beat
Strong he was and quick to heal I promised him that I would call
He said I better pass my French as we tossed some horseshoes in the heat

Years have passed but still I wish, to toss a ball with him how neat
Magic lives within that act the sharing pact of our baseball
He held my hand and made me look before I stepped into the street
He said I better pass my French as we tossed some horseshoes in the heat

Paul Mize © 2011




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