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Poetry
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| A Father's Death | |
| By Talisker | ||||||||
| 08 November 2006 | ||||||||
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My Father's Father. But I was there, as a young adult, to witness the sad theatre. “I am a done man, John”, his dying speech, Whisper-croaked, and then the man was gone, No unplumbed thought, no life’s secret to teach, Nor consolation for a grieving son. His bluish shell remained to mock the day, I watched, but never saw his soul take flight, I’m certain that it went beneath the clay, The aggregate of father died that night. Oli 08/11/06
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