A poem about family by David Tombale: Satchmo and the garden

Satchmo and the garden grew out of this image that was in my head, sort of a portrait of a grown man and his elderly father. No matter how grown we get there is vulnerability we still possess around our parents and that's what I tried to show with this piece.
Satchmo and the garden

Lilies by my window,
I’m looking into the garden,
The dog is rubbing his hairy
Rear upon my lawn, gambolling
Around

He seems happy.
I do not cry,
I can’t remember when I did

There is music somewhere far
Behind me, sounds like Satchmo

How funny, I thought my father
Hated jazz

It’s just he and I today, I sent the
Nurse out to get the paper

My father doesn’t read these days,
His eyes have gotten bad so when
He walked into the room I had to
Stand

I took his hand in mine and showed
Him Charlie playing in the garden
And finally he smiled.