I look at him br Illuminated by the dim yellow glow br of warm lamplight br br He smiles br reclined and comfortable br in the chair of my youth br br His rough unshaven face br carries the lines br of a million good times br br His warmth makes br the slightly tattered furniture br look better, more comfortable br br He stays up late into the night br telling worn old jokes br still funny br br He basks in the love of his family br come to see him br and is warmed br br I am carried back br carried to my place br in that chair br br Loved and protected br rough whiskers on my skin br always safe with him br br Sitting in that chair br always with a laugh br always with a smile br br Now the oxygen tube snakes br 'round his neck br while he tells stories br br But his laugh br is still deep br and loud br br The hour is late br and I drink his fine whiskey br that he no longer can br br I look deeply br into his sparkling eyes br and know that he will die br br But not when he can laugh br and still feel br like a childbr br James Jarrettbr br