I drive by to see if he is out on the patio
or by the bench in the sun
Taking in some rays
If he is, I stop in to have a smoke
Time is short so I don't stay long
Just a short stay
Long enough to have been there
There isn't much left to him these days
The pain meds have him in a fog most of the time
Fading in and out
But he still has spirit
He's holding out now for St. Paddy's day
He heard that there's a party at a nearby club
And he plans on being there
I hope he makes it
One last day of being Irish
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem