My father was a wild man who lived
with his feet off the ground
an eagle soaring on the wings of errant
pride
he was love on fire
scorching heart
beat on the move
swaying
to the groove of a
guitar and a mended spirit
a cue-pid ball gliding across the
evergreen way chasing all the pretty
numbers in the school yard
he was brick pile wild
the allure of promise
jive talk over corn stalks and
hawk bills in hip pockets
perched on high a rooftop throne of
rock tiles and sometimes regrets
the king of tickled bellies
shot gun shells and
shattered windows of
proven love crazy with that
“I wish you would…” courage
My daddy was cold Budweisers and
‘son, bet wiser
fitted caps and
waist tucked tees and
greeted death with a smile on his face
he was hard work
potential
and good old memories
and 2 o’clock gatherings over
hymns and hyperboles
the greatest dad ever
salute Wild Man Steve

“God called my daddy, Steve Robinson, home on November 6, but he left us with a lifetime of memories and three generations to carry on his name.
Hug your family while they’re still here.”

Steve Harris Robinson
July 27, 1948 – November 6, 2022

Terry Robinson he can be contacted at:
Terry Robinson #0349019
Central Prison
P.O. Box 247
Phoenix, MD 21131
OR
textbehind.com
OR
you can follow the writer, Terry ‘Duck’ Robinson, on Facebook, all messages left there will be forwarded to him.