His Last Song
Author: Dino Hi
Come down, come quick, it won't be long
Let me hear his voice, how are you doing Dad?
Hello Son, not so good, I want to go
Hold on, I'll be there, I won't go slow
A musician all his life, singing his last song
"Lonely is a man without love"
Help him sit up, with all his strength, he sang
"I can can not face this world, that's coming down on me
If you see my gal, please send her home to me
Tell her about my heart, that's slowly dying
Say I can't stop myself, from crying
Everyday I wake up, then I start to break up
Lonely is a man without love
Everyday I start out, then I cry my heart out
Lonely is a man without love"
Now I realize, When you lost Mom ten years before
You're singing to her, you'll soon be together forever
As I watch you take your last breath
------- Author's Notes -------
In memory of my Dad Zeke Sr. Feb.23,1996
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Capricorn (188.8.131.52) -- Wednesday, December 11 2002, 02:05 pm|
What a lovely poem in memory of you Dad, I felt quite tearful reading it. Some how Xmas always brings back memories of those who have gone. Thanks!
|Dino (184.108.40.206) -- Wednesday, December 11 2002, 04:24 pm|
Thanks Cap. Seems like every year at this time, he comes back to me. They live within our hearts and minds. I hear his songs everywhere, airport, TV, radio. He was a one man band on a guitar playing everywhere. Thanks again. See ya!
|Capricorn (220.127.116.11) -- Wednesday, December 11 2002, 11:15 pm|
True Dino, they're always in our hearts. Hope to see you join the forum sometime!
|Pamela (18.104.22.168) -- Friday, December 13 2002, 02:24 am|
What an astounding poem! The descriptiveness of those vulnerable moments - between son and father, as well as husband and long-lost wife.
Very well captured and absolutely beautiful words.
|Dino (22.214.171.124) -- Friday, December 13 2002, 06:01 am|
Thanks Pam for the nice comment. Yes the pain of losing one's wife. I will never know what he went through. He never talked about it. When we went through all his stuff in a rental storage, he had set up a place in there. My Mom's stuff and clothes all there. We never knew, also some of everybody's stuff, stack to the ceiling. The pain he must of held inside, never showing, even to the end. I didn't know why he chose this song from the hundreds he had, untill I wrote this poem. Then I understood why. Hey, Thanks again, See ya!
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