Child Poem by Herbert Hagell

Every day, in an old beet jar
His Red Rose tea and sugar
Bigger than life, bigger than Bugs Bunny
Every morning I would rush
To have my moment with my hero
He would make me a flapjack, I was a child.

One year, he was in the hospital
He said it had something to do with
Being burned inside. I pictured
A raging fire, like the one I started
Playing with matches. Yes, I was a child.

My mother died, at her own hand
Difficult to be the one to find her
It was a chore to find my father
He was on an isolated island
Maybe my method was not the best
He got the message. I was not a child anymore.

He was there, and not there
Some times, I felt he was taken from me
I missed him, I was alone
In a house full of people
I needed him, but I found a way
Definitely not the best way. I thought I was not a child.

Spent an incredible weekend in the country
Cemented relationship for a lifetime
Fires called me home, he was in the hospital
Good spirits, didn't see much of each other
My God, he checked out of the hospital
To see me graduate. I was still a child.

With hope for a future, I beat my demons
A long time with no warm touch
A new new job away from home
I was the last to be called
The first time he embraced me
And said 'I love you'

Always his child.