Does it rhyme? (Part II)

FATHER

I cried out to my father, and this is what I said,
“Father, what will the world be like, after you are dead?
You know you’ve always been here, at least for all my life—
You’ve been around forever, to help me through my strife;
To see me ‘round rough corners, and troubles as they came—
Oh Father, without you here things will never be the same!”

My father, he just smiled, and gave me a tight embrace,
And said, “Son, I’m going to a better, brighter place.
At least, that’s what they’ve told me since I was just a lad—
I’ve faith that they have told the truth—and truthfully, I’m glad
To be fading into the background of this long and fruitful age,
I’ve been going down this road so long I’ll be glad to turn the page,
To see what comes right after this, and then right after that--
Son, you needn’t worry,” and he gave my back a pat.

I looked at him, not certain that the old man knew the score;
It always seemed to me that in this life there should be more
Than living out your years, be they eighty, two, or ten—
It never seemed quite fair to me that our living had to end.
“But, Father-- “ I began to say, but he didn’t hear me talk;.
He had sat beneath an old oak tree, too tired now to walk.
As I watched his eyelids flickered, and his eyes grew dimmer still
And he smiled a quiet, tired smile, and he whispered, “Son, until
We meet again somewhere, someday, keep my memory alive,
Tell your son and his sons that I did my best just to survive.
Because that’s all that we can do, is live from day to day,
Until our days are all used up. Now that’s all I have to say.”

And his eyes closed oh so slowly, the eyes I knew so well,
The eyes reflected in my mirror, and I stammered out a yell—
“Don’t go, Don’t go, “ I shouted, too late to do much good.
I dropped down to my knees, pressed my forehead on the wood.
Held the hand that once had held my hand as I crossed a busy street.
Touched the face whose bristled whiskers had once tickled tiny feet.
Kissed the forehead across whose brow I had etched more than one line,
And knelt there feeling loss for this dear father of mine.

“Goodbye,” I whispered harshly, through the acid of my tears,
and inside I felt the passing of about a thousand years…

copyright JB 2005