memorial without memory - the sonnet

My Father is gone never to return,

yet he’s going down the road right now with us.

Often he shared from a page where he’d learned

how to have fun without making a fuss

These words right now are new to each of you

which is as close as i can get to Pop,

for that’s how it was with us - always new.

For him, the past was just another stop.

If i had to take a guess, he’d be honored now

to have a hand in such depth of feeling.

He worked for love, and it mattered not how,

going so far as to beg for it kneeling. 

His brave heart asked each to make their choices,

or each find a muse to give us voices.

jts 21 September 2011 stoneartist.com