Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Comments about Michael Goldsmith
The Father Of My Father
I hear stories of the man that we love,
And know that he looks down on us from above.
My father tells me with great joy, that man he used to be,
And I could never forget the time he spent with me.
I didn't get to see him much, because we lived so far away.
But when we would visit, i would give him my whole day.
He was a man that loved nature, and enjoyed to be outside.
He would take me with him fishing, and it gave me much pride.
Though he would never admit it, he was starting to get old.
I would catch all kinds of fish, while he would catch a cold.