I followed the same road
my Father did, the one
he said turns boys to men,
and I know I’d do it over again,
mostly for him, some for me,
until there came a time I strayed,
found myself a different path,
one that’s lasted to this day;
I know my Father’s pondering
somewhere up yonder in planted
field, wondering if in my own
wandering ways, I’ve found
the peace i’ve always needed;
I can’t say that’s quite the case
these days, you see, peace seems
to have a way of eluding me,
my Father’s son in much the same
ways as it did he; we were alike
like that, though he was made
of stuff that creek and field rocks
are; a hard man, my Father was,
but soft in heart, patient, and kind,
loving towards his sons, and for his
daughters, oh! what an everlasting
ray of sun; I know he’s smiling down
on us, hoping there’ll be no rain to wet
our cheeks when tomorrow comes,
he wasn’t one to dwell too much
on sorrow for a life well lived;
though now asleep in the fields
he loved, once again growing
and mowing the hay with one eye
to the sky, he sighs, the clouds are gray,
and gathering tonight; he knows
that the rain is surely coming,
heading my way on this sad day
for some, and me, but I’ll try to wipe
away the drops; I have my Son to see.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. You are saddly missed. I find comfort knowing you aren’t alone,
Give Mom a kiss, tell her the kids are doing fine. Lift her spirit up, take her dancing tonight and for a long hayride. Oh, I know you’d both like that. I’ll try hard to not let the rain fall too hard on this special day. Love and miss you, Old Man.