Monday, November 5, 2007


Charlie's gone these twenty-four years and
I still miss our infrequent get togethers;
just my old man and me chewing the rag,
solving problems, thinking' up new ones

He'd laugh aloud, blue eyes twinkling
and lay an index finger aside his nose,
nod, touch his lips, then say something wise;
his some things were things I was happy to hear

So, he's not here now and won't be again;
he was the first in the family to be cremated
and we carried him out back in a Quaker Oatmeal box,
dug a hole with a posthole digger and poured him in

Ashes to ashes done immediately with the flame
was the way he wanted it and so was how he got it;
then we all gathered together, family and friends,
tipped a few and told tales (no lies) about Charlie

Charlie's gone these twenty-four years
he isn’t coming back, but we'll follow one day,
meantime, I'm not about to forget a single moment
of the good old times my Dad and I had together

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