for Skip

The ink stained my hands
as I held the newspaper
reading your obituary.
Where had you been
for all these years
now gone?
Where had I been
when we could have connected?
I'll take my share of the blame and regret
and bury it
under my skin
so I can't forget.
We loved each other
but didn't  know one another,
the essence of family,
even closeness
has its fears.
I wish I still had
what you gave me
when I was three feet high.
I wish I had given you something
in return,
but we have the same blood
and I can't lose that.
When my boat sails
you will be the captain.

-- Christopher Hivner