A Poem For Father’s Day: “The Dad Who Did Not Want the Dog”

He said no,

voice firm as fence posts,

but the leash found his hand

on cold mornings—

shoes laced, coffee cooling,

he walks the block

so they can sleep.

Groceries appear,

bills paid in silence,

he learns the names of friends (or tries)

and worries the car will last

one more year.

His is the last light off,

the first to alight,

the quiet architect

of “enough.”

They never heard him want

the dog,

but every day,

the dog curls at his feet—

and he lets it stay.