Writing

 (picture)

Writing about others is

Addicting - depicting

their characters as

I view and listen.

 

Dad’s writing wasn’t complete

When he was forced to die.

There were more people

He wanted to paint in writing—

For he wanted to tell

All—that hope indeed exists

In all our lives.

 

And yet his was taken—

As he was making

So much from Life

Placing value on values

Which can perplex

The Greedy

Who actually have less

and are more needy,

 

which was his son.

Dad wasn’t done

And he let all see

He wasn’t finished.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I only wish

My dad, who

Was God’s Cop.

Can plant or prop

Me – my life

As I live

His legacy of

Peace and Love

of which he had been

supplied from Above;

for all Truth be known

This World is a hard place

for Peace and Love to be sown.

Yet now I’m missing

the person who brought

me to where I am now—

My dad, and how

He could teach—encourage

and his courage was

immense in Life.  His

Comments meant much

to me, for he freely spoke—

like each stroke of a paint brush,

Painting Life—sharing, caring,

giving of himself, hoping

it will help another

friend as he hold a pen

in his hand –

 

to begin writing.