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My father carried me when I was small and meek.
He held me in his arms where I could hear him speak.
I know what he said, though I could not understand,
What life was all about and what for me was planned.
My father walked with me when I was old enough,
To mountain streams and roads that were rocky and rough.
He brought nature close to me in a special way,
harmony in the world is where I want to stay.
My father used to run with me, when he was fit.
Both of us picked up the pace, slowly bit by bit.
Then he’d say you go on ahead, don’t wait for me.
So I ran alone to the end where he would be.
By Paul McCann
Paul McCann
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