My Fathers shoe lace came untied
while we walked one rainy night.
His shoe flopped, he squeezed his toes,
but he never said a word.
When I saw, I thought,
He can’t bend down!
“Dad? Want me to tie your shoe?”
He stopped, smiled,
“That would be nice of you.”
He placed his foot up on a stoop.
I bent down to tie it.
He steadied himself with his hand on my back.
The city street grew quiet.
Like a stopped clock,
a photograph,
a car at a red light, halted.
A rain drop streaked my face.
I tied my Fathers shoe lace.