In Memory of My Father

His quiet presence
always felt when not around.
He said a lot
though no words were spoken.

Sometimes a nod,
sometimes a grunt,
even a pat on the back
for a job well-done.

He encouraged us
to do right.
He directed us
when we were wrong.

His words were few.
His looks soft,
but stern.

When he spoke
we knew what he meant
by what remained unsaid.