You raised my father to be a good man
Nay, the best husband and devoted father;
In my veins run the goodies you served on a summer afternoon
Yet i had no time for your cremation.
My mother still remembers you
Daughters carry the legacy the men who sired them;
She was there, as you lay, counting the end of days
Of the four shoulders to embark on your last journey, none were mine.
Your tears i shall collect and hold tight your hand
My eyes remain moist, yet not a single drop shimmers;
Neither sympathy nor empathy tugs the heart
Though made of gold, it is but a stone.
As one more pair of beloved eyes is shut
Loved ones huddle in grief and pain, beat their breasts and wail;
"Let it all out, Ol' friend; pain within you shall not hold"
And without a blink nor sigh: Listen Bard, i shed no tears for the departed.
No comments:
Post a Comment