She was always embarrassed
When her father cried
For it was so unmanly
And she always knew
When it would happen.
When he read the note
From Mrs. Lewis
Saying what a joy she was
To have in class
And how proud of her
He must be.
When they brought in
A fifty-candled cake
And sang him a surprise
When the six o'clock news
Showed the kidnapped returned
Or the hostage released
Or the flag at half mast
He would reach for his handkerchief
Folded and white
And dab his left eye
Then his right
And she would just die!
She grew up, of course, and would now
If she could reach across the years
Fill a flask
With the holy water
Of her father's tears.
- Carol Lynn Pearson
