MY FATHER
My father was an humble man
With simple tastes and loves.
I remember when he was handsome and strong,
Full of fun, working long.
Later he shuffled and walked with a limp,
But head erect you could still see the glint
Of the old sense of humor in his eye,
Enjoying memories of days gone by.
He made fun of himself, and enjoyed the laugh.
Loved dressing up, and did so with class.
He enjoyed life day by day,
Knew when to rest, knew when to play.
Painted and traveled, enjoyed family and friends,
Made the best of each day in order to win
This battle with life we all wage
Struggling, resisting, denying age.
My father was an humble man
Without guile or masks.
As a child I remember him gentle but firm,
Fair and giving, eager to learn.
After the stroke he still joked and laughed,
Complained the days went by too fast.
A powerful spirit shining through,
Impacting others, but he hadn’t a clue
To his influence on the many lives he touched
With strength from his simple faith and trust.
An unassuming manner, just taking what came,
Appreciating the clouds and sunshine and rain.
My father was an humble man,
A man of books and song.
So strong in his love for my mother, his wife,
Oh the memories he left of how to live life.
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