Some days, like today, my boy
Comes back to me in a fit
Of memories, good and sweet,

And I feel like the father
Of a boy again, myself
Former boy, boy again.

And we are playing trains
And collecting rain, following
A hurricane up the coast.

All is well and we wash
Hands and say prayers
And read under the sheets

By flashlight. Then a tuck
And lights out and a kiss
Blown as day ends and I count

My luck to be father
To this sweet boy on this day
So long long ago.

About the Author

Brian Builta lives in Arlington, Texas, and works at Texas Wesleyan University in Fort Worth. His work has been published in North of Oxford, Hole in the Head Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, New Ohio Review, TriQuarterly and 2River View.