L C Vieira
My Father's Best
If I had followed my father's best,
I'd have zipped up my bags
and lost far less.
I'd have opened to strangers
and welcomed them too.
I'd have bowed my head
and silenced a few.
I'd have cancelled my judgements
and held my tongue.
I'd have sung out praises
for I know what I've done.
I'd have felt more
If I had watched my father's face,
I'd have taken a stand,
not hid in disgrace.
I'd have stood on the edge
to see Nature's treat.
I'd have checked that the pieces
were together complete.
I'd have been more aware
of all I destroy,
and not weighed in the balance
my own cup of joy.
I'd have felt more
If I had listened to my father's voice,
I'd have been much more grateful
that he gave me the choice -
to see far ahead to a world without end
and there welcome the Grace
that the Mercy did send.
I'd have known his true Wisdom
from ages before
and happily greeted the Word
at my door.
I'd have walked with the Living
and not hung with the dead;
I'd have drunk from the Fountain
and not tasted stale bread.
I'd have made the best choices
- and always on time,
then my father would know
that his story is mine.
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)