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Thursday, 09 April 2009


By Sydney Halet

I was here
At eight as we agreed;
The air was cool,
The sky was blue.
Your note was there;
At first, I passed it by
As it lay there,
And then, it caught my eye.
Somewhere, a bell
Tolled as I read your note,
And my heart beat quickly.
You said, “My son,
It’s time we said goodbye.
I cannot bear
To see the tears you’ll cry.
My life is done:
But, you are young; your life
Has just begun.
I’m at evening,
While you are still at dawn.
My dreaming’s done;
Your dreams have just begun.
And so, I leave,
Before I break your heart;
That I may spend
My remaining days apart.
Don’t be cross.
My days have been a buoy
On seas of floss.
And so I close.
My time is almost done.
My final advice...
Live like a man, my son.”
I turned to leave,
The note still in my grip;
One salty tear was caught
Upon my lower lip.
He went to die,
And I was left alone.
My course was clear;
Somehow, I’d go on.
I’m the heir to this...
My father’s legacy.
I AM a man...
Adam’s son, Nature’s dew;
Yes, I was here;
My father, so were you!

[EDITORIAL NOTE: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


Bitter sweet and wonderful.

A lovely poem about a loss we all face at some time in our lives.


You made me smile and cry at the same time... Lovely SENTIMENTS..and BEAUTIFULLY written..

I think I've said this before, but this stimulated me to repeat it.
It is said that if you want to see a grown man cry, get him in a safe secure place and ask him to talk about his father.

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