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Father
A poem for any father, inspired by recent events in my own life.
Down through the fields,
To make friends from the valley,
The family lay interred now,
The rest mourn and weep.
The last of her generation,
It scares me to think,
What will happen to the next?
The grey shines through,
That wooden ramp so worn,
From the footsteps of his decades,
Don’t go too soon I’ll say,
I hope he obeys.
It hurts too much to realise,
In death we have friends,
His are all waiting for him.
I shall be greedy,
When it is time I will not envy,
Today is not your time,
Not until I’m ready to shed tear Father.
By: scruffy joe
