Be Happy For Me Poem by john thomas

I held his hand when I was young,
I held it when his life was done,
Held it as he sighed his last -
Recalling times, and glories passed.

Then, as a child and hoisted high
I soared with clouds, became the sky,
When riding on his shoulders broad
No oceans depths could we not ford.

I never thought to see him weak
That words, he would choke to speak,
To see him quietly lying there,
How tortured is my own despair?

The finest words, he spoke, when well,
Before that black and final knell,
My mentor still now on the ear
And freely rolls the grieving tear.

He bade me close toward the end,
Blue eyes of my greatest friend,
In that moment, I soared above -
Hoisted by his undying love.

Cheek to cheek I sought his words,
Was adrift upon his sea,
Then gasping like a drowning man,
Heard, “Please be happy for me.”