Another quick one take: These days I’m finding my dad float up in my songs a lot. I suppose with last weeks prompt being “Morse Code,” it was nearly inevitable. He was a HAM radio operator. After dinner, if he was home, he was more often than not stationed in his “Ham Shack,” the room at the top of the kitchen stairs. When I grew up some dad’s would have an office (or these days a man cave), filled with the smell of tobacco or smoke. Dad’s room smelled of static and ozone.
Footsteps tap along the road
Dots & dashes of morse code
Silver quarters in a jar
Now I’m wondering where you are
Smoke signs burnt into the air
A last goodbye, well thee fair
Ash that echoes from afar
Now I’m wondering where you are
Our neighbors sleep beneath their stones
Someday I’ll be one of those
Driven home in a long black car
Will I meet you where you are?
A call out on your radio
To dads we never really know
W1HFR
Now I’m wondering where you are
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