My beautiful Dad

A wonderful man, my old dad, Never lonely, not often sad, Suffered so much at the hands of my mum, But to me and my sister, our best chum. A soldier was he for most of his life, At Japanese hands, he had great strife, But never a bad word did my dad say, For the way he was treated in those days. A loner was he, in his garden he’d work Amongst cabbages, lettuce and onions he’d lurk, No need for words, my old dad, His thoughts were his friend, That can’t be bad, He’s cross his leg and make a gap, Children were popped in, they quietly sat, His peaceful ways, would bring them calm, Until off they both went, sleeping with charm. He never answered you, when you spoke, It was quite a thing, a family joke, Repeating Dad, came easily you see, For my brothers, sisters and middle one me. He kept vicious bees in his vegetable plot, Nastiest things, he’d ever got, But he loved them more than I can say, My old dad, had some funny ways. His mother died and took his soul, An unhappy man, he wasn’t whole, She took him with her in his mind, So six months later, he left us behind. But I’m not sad, when I think of him, He was a happy man, a gentleman king. Not many like him have walked this way, So in my heart he’ll always stay…. Written April 20th, 2002 © on Apr 20 2002 05:30 AM PST    18 • 0 • 8