Papa
He walked me down a broken fence line when I was five.
He put the soil in my hands and taught me it was alive.
He spoke to me of life, in a gentle voice.
Taught me wrong from right, and left me with the choice.
He boosted me up on a saddled horse.
Taught me the things that would carry me through my life’s coarse.
He took my small hand in his work worn hand,
As he took me out in the fields and taught me the land.
And there was always a warm smile behind kind eyes.
Smile down at my small face, gentle and wise.
Showed me how to stack hay in a barn when I was eight.
And I can still remember swinging on a cattle guard gate.
And the day he told me someday he would be gone.
The only time in my young life I thought my papa was wrong.
On a wide front porch he told me stories of how life used to be.
And he would say it was a better time, and I would agree.
I still remember climbing up in his lap to sit on his knee.
He was the biggest part of what made me.
A man who taught me to work for everything I had.
He did. They just don’t make em’ like they did my grandad.
In my child eyes he was a man among men.
And I know there will never be another like him again.
These tears I just cannot hide.
For the last good man left, has died.
6-17-10
Sarah D Comstock
Copyright © Sarah Comstock | Year Posted 2010
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