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Linda Garfield Poem
Dad, it’s been eight years now
And still, I miss you so,
I remember the last words
You said to me, I cannot let them go.
You were always moody
Especially when you were ill,Dad, it’s been eight years now
And still, I miss you so,
I remember the last words
You said to me, I cannot let them go.
You were always moody
Especially when you were ill,
But those last words
You shouted and haunt me still.
Dearest Daddy, every day
I see your face,
Even at ninety-three,
Only faint lines gave the look of lace.
I miss you so much, Dad
More than you’ll ever know,
Yet every day I hear your voice,
And the words, that hurt me so.
I know you didn’t mean to shout,
That you were afraid of dying,
But Dad, I couldn’t believe
You were leaving, I couldn’t help, crying.
Living fifteen hundred miles away,
Life was difficult, filled with sorrow;
But remember this, my dearest Dad,
You’ll forever be my hero.
You shouted like you did in my youth,
A reminder of days gone by
I understand that moment of pain,
As only a daughter could sigh.
I’ll never forget you, Dad,
I cry myself to sleep,
The nights are so lonely,
And your haunting words, I keep.
But those last words
You shouted and haunt me still.
Dearest Daddy, every day
I see your face,
Even at ninety-three,
Only faint lines gave the look of lace.
I miss you so much, Dad
More than you’ll ever know,
Yet every day I hear your voice,
And the words, hurt me so.
I know you didn’t mean to shout,
That you were afraid of dying,
But Dad, I couldn’t believe
You were leaving, I couldn’t help, crying.
Living fifteen hundred miles away,
Life was difficult, filled with sorrow;
But remember this, my dearest Dad,
You’ll forever be my hero.
You shouted like you did in my youth,
A reminder of days gone by
I understand that moment of pain,
As only a daughter could sigh.
I’ll never forget you, Dad,
I cry myself to sleep,
The nights are so lonely,
And your haunting words, I keep.
Copyright © Linda Garfield | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Linda Garfield Poem
Was it my imagination I saw my wife in the pub last night
kissing a stranger a man with great height.
Was it my imagination they left by the back door
after smooching passionately on the wooden dance floor.
Was it my imagination you laughed at me as though you did not care?
Leaving with this stranger I could do little but stare.
Was it my imagination I went home to bed?
After finding empty closets, with a feeling of dread.
Was it my imagination I took to the bottle and drank whiskey and beer?
Drinking myself into a stupor to give me some cheer.
Was it my imagination drinking was my downfall?
So much so I lost my job, and missed a vital call.
Is it my imagination there was a shadow on the porch?
I opened the door to my wife she was holding a torch.
Was it my imagination she admit she made a mistake?
Begging to come home to start again pleading with me for a juicy steak..
Is it my imagination she looked plump with child?
Should I take her back, or am I weak and very mild
Is it my imagination she was pregnant when she left?
Leaving me in torment, distraught, so bereft.
Is it my imagination or did she need cash?
Knowing my bank account she took off like a rash.
Am I right in my imagination I throw her out the door,
Sleeping with another, an act I deplore.
Is it my imagaination I'll find someone new?
A trusted partner I did pursue.
Is it my imagination she wept?
When our child was born she was born with a cleft.
No longer do I imagine my heart filled with joy.
My new wife is perfect to give me a son, giving birth to a boy.
Copyright © Linda Garfield | Year Posted 2026
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