To  Dad To me you were a mountain, and  I this little stone. In anger you would rumble, the place we knew as home. Your hands were large as trees my world shook when they fell. The heat reflected in your eyes,  the trouble they would tell. The stone rolled off the mountain, and looking back could see, the rumble was the mountains heart, beating with love for me. I  could see clearly now the , the hands as large as trees, had done the very best they could, to provide shade and protection for me. The hot blue eyes , a bubbling stream, giving small things life, . that held many untold stories, of heartbreak, struggle and strife. Tumbling off the mountain, was a rough and rocky  road. The things I picked up along the way, strength, love and the courage to be bold. Dad you will always be that mountain, standing proudly over me, who’s love I will remember, through out eternity.   By D.L Shotwell Copyright 1997, 1998 D. L. (Brightbill) Shotwell  All rights reserved