From Father To Son

The hues of autumn mix and meld On trees where clusters of mistletoe dwell, Shades of amber, scarlet, and gold Call into mind some old stories Dad told. Tales of wizards, dragons, and lore Of pirates landing one morning on shore, Born of magic, lovingly spun So cleverly crafted just for his son. Grand adventures I fondly hold Could live forever if only retold, Father to son...now an old man Retold to this lad who now holds my hand. The hues of autumn mix and meld Turning to auburn once life is expelled, Fathers live, and they also die... But their tales live on when told by and by. Timothy I. Brumley