Suetang
06-17-2004, 01:04 AM
My father never knew me as a writer
although I feel him with me as I write.
Not a day goes by when I don't think
of him and remember him with much
fondness.
* * *
I had so much to say
But there was so little time
As I took hold of your hand
And I held it in mine
You were unable to speak
As you lay in your bed
Inside my heart was breaking
So many tears were shed
You knew that I was there
As you squeezed my trembling hand
With only hours now remaining
Until you'd reach heaven's land
But some things aren't meant to be
And I was not at your side
On that terrible Sunday
The day that you died
Your death shook my world
A heart broken beyond repair
Who would be my guiding light
Now that you weren't there?
I felt so lonely and withdrawn
As I struggled with my grief
My loss was incomprehensible
Feelings of sadness beyond belief
But you left me with a gift
That is priceless to me
The gift that you gave
Was my love of poetry
although I feel him with me as I write.
Not a day goes by when I don't think
of him and remember him with much
fondness.
* * *
I had so much to say
But there was so little time
As I took hold of your hand
And I held it in mine
You were unable to speak
As you lay in your bed
Inside my heart was breaking
So many tears were shed
You knew that I was there
As you squeezed my trembling hand
With only hours now remaining
Until you'd reach heaven's land
But some things aren't meant to be
And I was not at your side
On that terrible Sunday
The day that you died
Your death shook my world
A heart broken beyond repair
Who would be my guiding light
Now that you weren't there?
I felt so lonely and withdrawn
As I struggled with my grief
My loss was incomprehensible
Feelings of sadness beyond belief
But you left me with a gift
That is priceless to me
The gift that you gave
Was my love of poetry