Robin Cooper

Robin often stops by
rolling in on his
rickety, 
yet faithful bike,
wearing his faded blue 
trousers
with the ankles cinched
down to 
edges of
his socks.
here stands a distinguished
retired lawyer
and i could not 
love the man
more.
i feel like he was meant to be
a father, 
at least that's how
i feel about him.
maybe it is
because 
he reminds me of
my own dad,
who just so happens to be
a retired lawyer too..
either way, 
i think it might be
more than that,
and i wish robin could be
my dad too.
he is so gentle and kind,
quirky 
and a bit irregular,
when i picture him
he is always
violently rubbing
his hands 
across his face,
and the hair on his head
is running in all 
sorts of directions.
but this man here is
a man among men.
Robin is so faithful 
and steadfast,
he weighs,
measures, and ponders
filtering all things
through a layer of
humility and honesty.
he watches and observes with
a perceptive wise eye.
he listens carefully,
not just to respond 
with a harsh rebuttal
[although he could, 
the man is sharp]
but waits
[body slapped across 
a chair, legs and arms
in disarray]
chewing on words
and then
only then
calmly,
thoroughly,
shares a response.
i have felt very loved
and cared for 
by Robin.
he has made me feel 
valued,
important,
and heard.
he has never talked 
down to me,
made me feel 
insignificant or small,
if anything,
i feel wiser
for the way he 
listens to me
with such attentiveness,
his verbal mm-hmm's
and head nods
ever affirming,
uplifting of who i am
as a wife and mum
in my own family unit.
as much as he loves and 
honors
my husband,
i do not feel 
left behind or less than.
he speaks to me with kindness
and soft tones.
[again, not in a condescending way,
but in a concerned-for-your-very-own-daughter
kind of way:)]

i love you, robin.
can i call you dad? ;)