PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When his skin was pale and his eyes half closed

or half open, from your point of view,

he'd live forever, or so I'd supposed

but I came to realise, as I grew

that those men that stand so high and tall

are prone to sickness just like I,

he looks so frail, unlike my father at all



His once strong hands were shaky and wasted

the ones that carved and hugged before

I hated the bitter way that death tasted

when it stood unto me, at that door

I wanted to ignore it, to push it aside

to take that man and make him well

but he was too stubborn, his manly pride

told me only time would tell



So father, when you lost your hair

and your eyes cried for the first time in years

know that I really did care

for in private, I'd share my tears

I didn't want you to see your little girl weak

I'd been made in your image, I had your blood

and we'd come through, it wasn't too bleak

and I would respect you wherever you stood



And now time has passed and you are healed

I worry, sometimes, it will happen again

I know you are mighty, I know you are steeled

you know very well how to hide your pain

so if you fall again to this vicious ill

please don't worry about breaking down

I'd rather you speak up than stand still

so this time we can all gather around



I'll rally and fight, no matter my issues

I'll come back to England to be by your side

I'll comfort mother and pass her the tissues

just promise me you'll not be tainted with pride.