The Day My Father Died Poem by Chris Kril

The day my father die
He held his bible by his bed side
The life he prayed would never go
Has gone and left him with no under toe

So many things he did not complete
Like the tree house, we were building across the street
All we needed was the roof
The day's I thought would never end
Have left me with something I can no longer comprehend

As the wind blows
The weather gets colder
As my body grows
I only get older
Life is a story with no ending
Who cares if they stop mending

Know i'm old
To old for child's play
The tree house still sits
With the memories of my golden days