the spectacles were on at last
his vision now became workable
yet the reason for this adventure uncertain
and i simply don't talk too well to him these days

we were family before his death
we are still family after his life is gone
don't know, why i feel he is not who i thought
a photograph, an artist's invention of what I felt

who was he anyway, as he lay on a slab of what
GLORY, before his cremation; felt something missed
trickery, my father went from this world as i looked
not at the man i called father, a lifeless form indifferent
to the portrait in my mind, his death came as family
viewed his body before cremation...

i felt scammed, as my father is no longer around to bring a chuckle,
to imitate as i often did, not the man i now see, why does
he look so different, his life was so much richer than mine,
his glory somewhat questioned, and i know the Lord
will forgive his heart, mangled and mismanaged by time

i knew his soul, for it is and was mine...
late in the eve
details became jumbled and misconcieved
hurt, pain, someone who suffered for
tragedies have clouded his life
and i was not a model son, for him
i wish i could have been that model
his ashes blown away from a brass urn
somewhere in eternity