My dad was a working man
With never— ever—an idle hand.
And far from perfect as could be,
He believed in his family.
He'd work every day of life
To support his children and his wife.
His mother passed when he was five,
Which left him hurt—torn inside;
Her memories were far and few;
His dad and siblings were all he knew.
Dad gave us what he could, as such,
Tho' all he had was not much.
(9/2016 Revised for a smoother flow.)
So nostalgic and endearing. You must have had a good Dad. Beautifully done. I love your work. Wish that I could read all your poems. May you continue to share your beautiful work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great tribute to a great dad.. Compassionate and very touching. He surely should appreciate this. Work is not a four letter word to him