From the recording Wire and Wood

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My Father Has Hazel Eyes
Words and Music © 2021 Joe Black
All Rights Reserved


My father has hazel eyes
I’d like to think when he was younger
He could see a world of wonder
With an emerald sheen
In between
The promise and the lies.

My father’s skin is smooth
Easily bruised
He stares into a distant
Seeing. Not Seeing
Being. Not being.
Anxious and confused

And as I sit with him today
I’m living in the past
There’s things I need to say
And questions I can’t ask
As I gaze at my reflection
Rehearsing my goodbyes
I long for the perfection of
My father’s hazel eyes

My father, always singing
(Telling me that he was there).
With ancient rhythms mingling
Through our home and in the air.
His hopes lay in his offspring
His dreams were locked up tight
With every day an offering
Whistling praises in the night.

My father’s voice is gone now
As he closes his tired eyes
Like a winter’s lawn now
No chords to harmonize
A storm-tossed ship
A hand that’s lost its grip
On the world that spins around him
And the loved ones that surround him
He doesn’t recognize

My son has hazel eyes.
He sees with intuition,
A clarity of vision
Searching hard for things that matter
‘Midst the riffraff and the chatter
In the greenish hues of spring
In the songs he loves to sing
And every day a new surprise.