Not a father through blood, but through requirement and devotion. No heartstrings were tugged, but you meant more. Always there, quietly caring, more than anyone could. No warmth from your tongue, just trying to do good. No father to follow, or mother to show care, so you stumbled and tripped — but we knew that you cared.
He lay in the crisp starched sheets of the hospital bed, the smell clean but not comforting. His face cleanly shaved, ground-in years of dirt and grime dissolved, although the lines of trodden neglect still linger. His cheeks sunken and eyes crinkled and old, like well-worn leather shoes that are only good enough for a guy. His gummy face smiles, his wrinkles full of lines from the story of his long hard life. It’s time to say goodbye forever, for your time has been sold. Because the cancer has eaten you to the core, like a rotten apple, the smell of decay lingering long after your eyes closed.
You were always old — grey hair, wrinkles across your face forming a map to tell the story of your fate. Hardship, abandonment, and infidelity. A man without much stature, but with a heart of gold. Your clumsy caring showed love without any words told. I have missed you. Your Devonshire bred, born and spoken, through green fingers and a broom that is now also dead.
One Response
This is just beautiful. Donna has written amazing poetry that I had and still have the opportunity to read. Love all of her poetry so far. She is also an amazing artist Her poetry should be publish as it brought me healing in times of hardship and life’s challenges that we are all soooooo unprepared for. Well done Donna