The Joy of a Smile
I look at my father, tall and proud;
He looks at me and smiles.
In that smile he hides the pain of loss and burden on his shoulders,
All that pain...
He rubs his arm to remind him of that loss.
The arm might be gone and replaced with that weapon,
but the memory will never be.
I crawl in his lap and smile,
while he smiles back at me.
*Disclaimers apply