He Is

He is.
A deep voice on a quiet morning saying, “let’s go.”
A scratchy beard and a quick hug.
A familiar smell of motor oil and cigarettes and beer.
A long afternoon on a rickety porch sitting in silence.

Frog is.
A loud, raucous laugh at a silly joke.
A low, satisfied moan of approval at the breakfast table.
An exasperated sigh during another argument.
A quick solution to a long-standing problem.

Skint is.
A plumber, an electrician, a roofer, a bookshelf builder.
A sports fanatic and television addict.
A huge smile at a small accomplishment.
A sympathetic shoulder that I never cried on.

Muffin is.
A son, a brother, a cousin, an uncle, a husband, a father.
A grill master, a fish fryer, a master driver.
A furniture replacer, a syrup sandwich maker.
A car mechanic, a Victor Frankenstein bicycle fixer.

Roy is.
A joke lover and rule breaker.
A spider killer and cockroach exterminator.
A dog lover, but cat owner.
A country gentleman, but no bullshit taker.

My dad is.
Gone.