my Father wrote poetry in younger years
of love and loss
his joy
his fears
i discovered his work tucked away in a drawer
castaway drifter
returned to the shore
who was this man of sentiment
whose gift of prose is long since spent
who spoke so rarely
and laughed not at all
i knew him not
beyond the wall
that stood in stone
grew stronger with age
his soul now resides
in this book
on this page
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
my Father wrote poetry in younger years
of love and loss
his joy
his fears
i discovered his work tucked away in a drawer
castaway drifter
returned to the shore
who was this man of sentiment
whose gift of prose is long since spent
who spoke so rarely
and laughed not at all
i knew him not
beyond the wall
that stood in stone
grew stronger with age
his soul now resides
in this book
on this page
