Dying Father

I see the shadow of death 
dim the light in his eyes. 
I hear the hiss 
on his lips, 
the gasp 
in his voice. 
I see it all, 
but I pretend not to 
and keep going on. 
Father is wilting away 
and I cannot stop it 
I can only slow it 
with love. 
I take him out 
to eat and to see the city, 
the places he used to tow me along  
when I was small. 
He made me hold his pinky 
or the handle of his briefcase.
Now he holds my thumb
the belt of my backpack 
and leans on me for balance.