The Old Man is Gone
Hard as nails but only skin and bone.
Worked hard all his life,
Feeding George, me and mom, his wife.
A man of the soil,
Growing was his living, just hard toil.
Cutting trees or hoeing corn,
Wondering why you were even born,
To a life of work and sweat,
Poverty and deeper debt.
Drank beer and gambled some,
Reaping anger from his youngest son.
But the old man is gone,
Younger son wrote this song.
Glad you and Jesus met,
In Heaven there is no regret.
See you later, you're not too bad,
Loving son to departed dad.
Published by Wiley Vaughn
I've earned my living in vastly different ways: as an LPN, an RN, a real estate agent and a gunsmith. I like do-it-yourself and have a little experience in automotive repair. I like gardening. I'm a Chris... View profile
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31 Comments
Post a CommentLovely poem, with just the right ending.
very good and I love the title!
goosebumps....
A lot of emotional depth in this--wrenchingly honest, yet a loving tribute. Great!
Nice tribute.
Your personality shines through in this poem. Nice!
Well written tribute...
very nice work
Very sorry Wiley for the loss of your Dad. This is a well written piece!
So sorry for your loss, Wiley. I never got a long with my father, but after he was gone I wished we had more time together. He loved guns!