Gallantly standing, basking in the bright morning light His buttons are neat, shirt tucked in. His shoes are shined, his face freshly shaven On his collar, are acorn leaves on the left, eagle on the right. Gentle eyes and a weathered brow He looks down at me and smiles. His bill of his cover is woven with golden leaves He shadows over my shadow as if we were one. Some might call him Doctor, Others call him Captain, But one name clings to my heart A name that shines like gold, I call him, Father.