Strong hands who held me up to the sun
A harbinger of knowledge so hard won
By his side I felt so good
Safe and sound like a son should
He fought the Japanese during the war
As a gunner on a destroyer he knew the score
A hard worker who didn't always win
He taught me the truth and for me always a grin
We lost him early from cancer then
And he suffered right up to the end
It's hard to think of him and I miss him each day
Wanting him back and wishing he'd stayed
But we play the cards we are dealt
When I see him again my heart will melt
So now I work it out each day
With a thought "What would my father say? "
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
losing the dear one still the happiest memory opens the leaf of souvenir; the reminiscence makes into you the alive personification of your father/// beautiful love and birthday dedication through the tone of ballad