We went together to picnics at the beach
in your serviceable brown Dodge
which also took us to church on Sundays,
a drive of fifteen kilometres.
We went together to your village dairy,
where you worked seven days a week.
I served many customers to give you a break.
They came in, searching for something.
We went together on that last Friday
to the full church by the lake.
The hearse was black and final
but it was followed by many mourners.
-17 March,2017.
I'd like to be the first to comment on this lovely poem! I'm new to the site, but I recognise good work when I see it!
You boost my self confidence with your comment. I'm sure you will enjoy this site, but it may not be easy at first. I can't wait to read your poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely tribute for your father Michael. He sounds like he was a man of God and a hard working man that brought you up to be the same.