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Poem

More than 50 years ago, you went away and left us sad.
Our youngest was 9 months, and I was a 13-year-old lad.

You left us in good hands with a bold mother who was only 35,
and not once did we ever feel that we would fail to survive.

It is ever recorded in my personal book of history
that of your death, today is the 56th anniversary.

I remember it well, where I was, who I was with,
what I was doing, and the time of day it was when                                                                                                         

the sad news came.  On May 8 in '63 you were only 58                         
Walking canes and wheelchairs for you were not to be                                

You never knew retirement, social security, and Medicare                     
because longevity for you was not meant to be.

Your illness took its toll, forbidding you to grow old, leaving me and others                                                       
of yours with a hole in our souls. And like a stroll with a story written thereon,                                                 

you ceased to unfold, and as your life took its exit, your body grew cold,                                                         
and I have missed you since in ways yet to be told.

705AM582019PoSoup

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