I've been through doors that made me happy.
I've gone through doors that made me sad.
Behind doors it did excite me.
Behind doors I've often cried.
Behind doors I saw my father .
As he lay so till when dead.
Behind doors I felt the sorrow .
As I lay upon his bed.
Too late to say I'm sorry.
The words for him or I to say.
We stood by what we thought was right .
I stand by it every day.
His door to life is closed now
But his memory is always there.
His leaving wasn't his choice.
It really wasn't fair.
I still talk to my father.
No better one could I find.
Because he's not here in person.
He is always in my mind .
© Copyright 2016 The elder poet. All rights reserved.
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