"Not Gone"
People tell me he is gone,
that it is best it be
but they do not understand,
Not Gone;
he lives through me.
We walk among the woodlands,
the tracks of wild to seek,
then spying a nest of baby birds,
he holds me up to peek.
Lazily we linger underneath a cypress tree,
a picnic lunch, a fishing rod,
just my daddy and me.
We chat about the fishing,
the ones that got away,
And tho' it's time to go on home,
we both just smile and stay.
An ally to my secrets,
a warrior for my soul,
He was always there for me,
whether good or bold.
With courtly pride he walked me
down the aisle that day,
and whispered his pride of me
as he gave me away.
Time wasn't always gentle,
age lined his weathered face,
but twinkling eyes still lingered
anytime that we embraced.
His words for me to "hurry"
as I rushed to his side,
stabbed deep within my heart,
then my daddy gently died.
People tell me he is gone,
that it is best it be.
but they do not understand,
NOT GONE;
he lives through me.
In dedication to my Father, W. Kenneth Foster
for He can never be gone as long as I hold him within me.
I love You, Daddy