There is something in your voice,
It trembles as you speak.
It catches my breath,
Forcefully taking my voice.
I’m left feeling bare,
With these tears I held back in.

Papa’s hands are always so big,
with faded prints and peeling skin.
Broken nails with dirt and grime,
Freckles dotted up the sleeves.
Don’t forget the sunburn on your neck.
Especially after you worked your back.

Always intrigued by your ears,
We call them the Buddha’s lobe.
But what fears me the most,
Is if I gaze too far and too long.

Not far away is your fearsome eyes,
Which appeared as deep as the bottomless ocean.
Your lids sags down full of wisdom,
But it wanders far… into the abyss of the past.
You have worked hard for us,
But you haven’t for yourself.
I could tell by your eyes that your soul is still sailing,
In a dream you could only dream but not live.

I held your hands tightly, unable to say a word.
But all I really want to say is “Papa close your eyes.”
You deserve a rest, a nap, a sleep, a snore.
For your body has given so much… I’m afraid it won’t take more.