Asphalt Cowboy's blog: "PUSH"

Still the same old neighbor hood, like many years ago. House sitting white picket frames, like rockwells in a row. I've always been the rebal son, but Daddy didn't mind. He wanted me to chase my dreams like he did one time.

Now he's on the front porch, as I get out of my car. As my fathers eyes reach mine, theres one wish in my heart. I wish my dad was thirty five again. He would be young and I would be ten. We would go fishing, throw an old ball around. Wash his truck, go into town. We can never go back to the way it was then. Just for today I wish he was thirty five again.

Now we sit and talk for hours, of life out on the road. What I seen and where I been, and journeys left to go. Mamma looks at both of us, "Your like two kids, I swear." Then the stories turn to laughs, before the leaveing turns to tears.

Now he's on the front porch, as I get out of my car. As my fathers eyes reach mine, theres one wish in my heart. I wish my dad was thirty five again. He would be young and I would be ten. We would go fishing, throw an old ball around. Wash his truck, go into town. We can never go back to the way it was then. Just for today I wish he was thirty five again.