Father Has Gone To Sleep Poem by Kate Wiley

My father lay long in the dusk
His form was nothing but a husk,
The doctor said he could not heal.
Listening close in night's soft hush

He heard faint music he could feel,
Wafting, drifting there, so real,
An angel singing in his ear;
Far off echoes, gently steal.

He said, 'Is anybody there? '
A stillness hovered in the air.
He called again into the deep.
My presence, answering, drew near there.

My father does not know we keep
Close vigil o'er death's silent sleep.
It is too late, I must not weep
It is too late, I must not weep.