He diced with death; it was one summer’s day.
He’d left his three children alone to play.
Transforming himself to ice cold, blue steel,
on a dark dreamy day, seemed so surreal.
My mum shed warm tears; her heart had been torn.
My sisters held hands and wept on the lawn.
Nostalgically, they had both come to survey
the gorgeous green grass my father did lay.
From time that they put him into the ground
I shed not one tear, or uttered a sound.
My uncle said, “There is no shame, just weep.”
But all of my grief I’d buried down deep.
I stowed it, until I'd meet him some day
beyond the blue Moon and mute Milky Way.
For then, far from earth, I’d shake his strong hand,
and say, “Dearest dad, I now understand.”
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 23rd, 2022 03:08
- Comment from author about the poem: For my dad, who went to be with the Lord when I was a child.
- Category: Family
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
I posted on my mother's passing yesterday, maybe that'll lift your spirits a bit. I totally understand the grief of loss but at least you had your father for however many years it was. He loves you and lives on in your memories and your poetry! 💖
Thank you, Rocky. Yeah, my dad was 39 and I was 14. I found it hard to express my grief for many years. My poetry helps to pour it out onto the page. Again, thanks for your kind words of advice and for taking the time to read my poor little rhymes.
Wow, my mom passed away when I was 13. So I feel your pain. Continue writing! 💖💖
This is so well written and I love the rhyming verse and the heart and soul you put into this. Thanks for sharing!
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