Mired Memories


 

You gave to us your wisdom, Dad, in hopes we'll carry on,

the messages you felt you had to leave before you're gone.

Your clever wit and moral grit – that glue which gave us strength,

that held a family, closely knit, through thick and thin, at length.


 

Please listen, Dad, I'm feeling sad, your mind is failing you.

So ill at ease, this dread disease, dissolves that mental glue.

Yet still you try, as time goes by, sweet mem'ries start to fade,

to be the one who laughs, has fun – your will cannot be swayed.


 

To me, your son, you'll be the one whose voice of reason reigns.

Strangers to you were just those who new friendships could be gained.

Your smiling face time can't replace while wiping clean the slate,

of happy times and warmer climes, you've left behind your trait.


 

My memories mired in youth inspired by haunts of happy ghosts;

it's you, dear Dad, and I'm so glad – for you taught me the most.

So when in fall you can't recall those joyous times of old,

I will aspire, through muck and mire, to treasure them as gold.