Driving down a country road, eyes in the rearview mirror steal glances at their own reflection. Looking so much like my fathers eyes The eyes that knew when someone lies, or someones been mistreating you. From three generations of prophets and preachers I got these eyes from you. The curl at the back of my neck that my mother reaches to touch...reminds her so much of you. And looking in my father's eyes she see's you through and through. My father's eyes, the curve of my brow the, the glint in my eye , like my father's eyes. A hint of mischief gleams in my eye, when ever a handsome man does pass by. They stop and talk or sometime just stare, is it that they see my father there. Afraid to appoach for fear of rejection. They are seeing my father's eyes in my reflection. Are they surprised, like family members because I have my father's eye's. The kind that make mothers wistful and sing their grownchildren lullabies. Thinking of that love gone by. When she looks into her childs eye. Squinting in the sunlight as I travel on my way , I am straining to see what is actually in front of me. I don sunglasses to avoid the tiny crinkles that come, from squinting and frowning and laughing, and wipe a tear away and I protect my father's eyes. bjs(C)I love you Daddy !