How tomorrow will come,
filled with joy or heavy sorrow,
no one knows
My path may take me
where no foot has trod,
to babbling streams I've loved
or perhaps into that last
dark valley, all family
and friends unremembered
I may continue, aware,
or lose memory of the sun,
this knowing and poetry
done
Though your body is gone,
my clever, beloved Father,
your mind's vigor lives on...
in these words we pen,
all echoes of you...purposeful,
humming bees
The you I could finally hear
in those later years, when we'd
become better friends
and I could feel the love we shared
in the deep bond we forged,
ideas we exchanged
I learned a lot from you, Dad,
and a lot about me, in those
days-long talks we had.
The old bumpy road fades as I
make a new trail, your resonant
words lighting the way
However long my own journey,
I will always, always hear
the sound of your voice
And the day will come
when these humble words,
fed by inherited spirit,
will, to some questing soul,
be welcomed as
seasoned and wise
--Jo VonBargen 2012
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