Dad
by GC SMITH
He was a plain spoken man, not a lot of education, very little money, influential only in a limited and immediate but most important way.
He wasn't a mover and a shaker, he didn't hold high office, his wasn't vast power.
He went to work every day, he provided, he came home each evening to wife and children.
His was a wisdom, uncommon wisdom and uncommonly good. He took care of the important things. He was a moral compass. Steadfast honesty, fairness, decency, the hallmarks of his being, were as natural to the man as walking.
I knew him well.
I knew him from the time of my birth.
I knew him until he left this earth three decades ago.
His name was Charlie.
A plain spoken man.
My friend.
My mentor.
My Dad.
I remember.
Poetry, prose, and other stuff meant for the reader's enjoyment. Web page at: Click here. My novels are White Lightning, The Carbon Steel Caress, In Good Faith, and Mudbug Tales; A Novel in Flashes, wit' recipes. My poetry book is A Southern Boy's Meanderings. CLICKY My webpage:
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