You taught me how to fight with my fist
You taught me how to love with my heart
You taught me right and wrong and how to tell them apart
You taught me how to ride a bike, shoot, catch, and hit a ball
But you never babied me when I’d fall
Thinking of my first driving lesson puts a smile on my face
Jerking, swerving, grinding every gear all over the place
You were patient yet firm and never let me quit
You never said, but I could tell you were proud when I finally got it
You taught me that growing up in the inner-city didn’t mean you have to become what you see
I can say with confidence that the lesson was not lost on me
I find myself becoming more like you every year
But Dad, one thing you didn’t teach me is how difficult it would be without you here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem