#1963-Warmth

Dad’s morning routine,

Was always the same.

Read the newspaper,

By the living room table,

A walk around the block,

Get busy in the garden,

When the sun came out.

He chose a simple way,

To end his days.

I often thought,

He could do much more.

In some strange way,

Selling himself short.

Now that I am older,

I better understand.

Old school habits,

Engrained with simplicity,

Brought him tranquility.

It was his way,

To live out his days.

Wish he could now see,

I too grew up like him.