Elliott B Wrinkleberry

My Fathers Hand - Poem by Elliott B Wrinkleberry

I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn't there with me
He looked my way and smiled a bit, but I don't think he could see
My tears I hold until I'm alone,  I want to be so strong
Maybe he should just give up, is thinking that so wrong?

I held my fathers hand today, but I don't think he was there
And mother holds and rubs his arm, sat on a plastic chair
And the pipes and tubes and sticky bits are holding him in place
He's tired of life and all this pain, I can read it in his face

I held my fathers hand today, and told him how I cared
About the things we laughed about and stories that we shared
The last thing that he said to me, 'take care, I love you son'
he told me that he had been blessed, to spend this life with mum.

I held my fathers hand today, I know he didn't feel me
the greatest love that I could give  was holding him so near me
his eye lids close and I kiss his head and I comb his thinning hair
I say goodbye to my beloved dad, but he doesn't know I'm there.

I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn't there at all
But when I dream he  comes to me, every time  I call
And things are like they always were, where everything's alright
I'll  hold his hand for evermore, holding him so tight.

Poet's Notes about The Poem

Dads been very ill, this was written at the time.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 18, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, August 19, 2013

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