Listening to every heart
At the age of eight, I walked along side my Dad
I was his oldest girl, my brother his little lad,
and although his words were most often spare
his weathered, work-worn hands held sweet, lovin’ care.
One summer, in the morning’s rays sun-warm
I complained of how very slow my days went by.
His brown and leathered face looked at me
and said “Sunshine, you should be quite happy.”
He went on “my days, they go by too fast,
why, my tomorrow is already past.
Do one thing, my Sunshine, for me
don’t wish away your life so foolishly.”
I listened, but I guess I didn’t really hear
my father’s words spoken to me that day.
I think I must have gone and sulked, for the
sun passed slowly before night come lay.
Then at eighteen, a wedded woman now
I kissed my father goodbye after the wedding vows.
My whole life before me, as if I had just been born;
waved good-bye to my parents, my father’s face ever-worn.
At twenty-eight, a decade gone, something bothered my thinking,
I began to wonder how this time had passed in a bit of winking.
Two children, a divorce, I went to visit my refuge again
and my father’s wise words kept me from swiftly sinking.
“Treasure your days, they move with swiftness fast,
treasure your children, for they are your past,
treasure your future, but don’t wish it God speed,
treasure my words, for some day I’ll be deceased.”
I could not believe he spoke that last thought to me,
my father would always be in my life.
I went to my own home, met a man, became a wife,
never again were my father’s words long gone from me.
I watched as the next ten years went by, I just didn’t react;
observing my aging children, I photoed my memories intact.
Then at thirty-eight, things started changing fast,
the first child left, and I questioned “How did eighteen years pass?”
At forty, to this grandmother, a grand-daughter was born,
I held her closely in my arms, keeping her from harm,
a silent prayer I said, with my father’s voice in my head,
for he could not be there for her...he was already dead.
I whispered my father’s words to her, “my days, they go too fast,
why, my father’s tomorrow is already gone and past.
Do one thing, my sweet grandbaby, do these things for me,
don’t wish away all your days, don’t waste life swift or foolishly.”
Another seven years have slipped away, another daughter gone,
a new grandson, aged two now, and another one coming along,
at forty-seven I can think back quite clearly to the age of eight,
and I think that to my father’s words, I will now always relate.
Words will always express our feelings true. ~~~ KRJ
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
[This message has been edited by Sunshine (edited 08-21-99).]