The Backyard Poet
He passed around his bottle again
For any who entered he called friend
Never a stranger there in the house
Of that joyful man and gentle spouse
People with no names were welcome there
Warm yourself, eat and let your head clear
Move on down the road a better man
Faith renewed that there’s a greater plan
Gone twenty minutes or twenty years
He’d still welcome you home without fear
Share a hug…story…a shot of wine
He was not just a man, but friend for all time
Stories that were never told
Blurring the lines between poetry and prose, intensity and elegance
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Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry
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Sounds like a man who knew how to be a friend.
Was this your father?! Or you?! I bet you are that kind of friend to those in your life, Jerry. 🙂
HUGS!!! 🙂
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Yes, my father was quite an exceptional person. As for me, I can only try to imitate him.
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What great people to have in your life Jerry. Live and let live. We could do with a few more of them like that at the moment.
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Yes, my father was an exceptional person and a great judge of people.
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