Walk in his shoes.

Walk in his shoes.

When I was a little man
I used to look up at you big man.
Hey, that cool guy there..
Yup, right there, he is my Dad.
I wanted to be just like my Dad.
I wanted to wear his shoes.
I wanted to walk in his footsteps.
Just wanted to be like Dad.
He taught me all the important things in life.
He taught me to fish.
He taught me to tell jokes.
He taught me to hunt too.
Yup, my Dad, he taught me a lot.
I learned to drive.
He taught me to race.
He passed his knowledge to me.
No holding back from Dad.
He just showed us all the way.
I followed till I got older.
Then wanted to walk in my own shoes.
That was okay with Dad too.
He sat back and watched me go.
Knowing in the end that I would be right back there.
Looking to him for the answers I couldn’t find out there.
Overtime I grew to be a man.
I could tell he was proud even if I didn’t walk in his shoes.
Dad grew ill and passed one day.
I always think of Dad no matter what I do.
Hunting, fishing, racing, or even just being a Dad too.
It seems that after all I do walk in his shoes.