He was a good man and he worked his hands to the bone,
A long day of labor making callouses turn to stone,
He worked for the ones that he loved,
Another bill to pay, another challenging day,
His family loved all that he had done,
They missed his company when he didnt come home,
Nights of worry soon came to fade away,
Old pops was at his usual place drowning the pain away,
The harder he worked the less he was around,
The more he drank the more he couldnt put the bottle down,
Some friends and relatives grew to hate him for his ways,
Myself Ive always loved him I just wish home is where he stayed,
I know how much love he had for us and how hard he tried to provide,
He ached everyday, I could see it in his face but he never made a sound,
A true man, working himself into his grave,
Never taking time for his own, except to the bottle which he became a slave,
I miss him and the times weve shared together,
He was rugged and tough with a loving heart and skin as strong as leather,
I can remember his eyes looking down at me,
All my life he was a giant, a loving father, who was lost by the bottle,
The bottle eventually took him away,
But the vast memories he created are in my heart to stay.
Originally Posted On Site: 2006-08-23 23:53:05
Last Login: 05.05.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 110
Comments:
|
||||||
|
||||||
