Take The Time
It only takes a minute... to call, those you're thinking of.
I didn't take the time to tell my Father how I felt.
I thought, when in the parlor, by the casket, where I knelt.
We loved each other very much, but did not take the time,
To stop and say, "I love you," now the guilt I feel is mine.
Sitting in the quiet lounge, at the funeral home,
Sipping at my coffee, thinking I was all alone.
I never even heard the older Gentleman walk in,
Until he stood beside me and said, "I'm your Father's friend."
"Your Dad and I were very close, he called me Crazy Tom."
"It was I, who introduced your Father to your Mom."
"I left this town some years ago, when you were just a child."
"So, you would not remember me," he said and then he smiled.
He said, "Your Father's sudden death, must come as quite a blow."
"But, yesterday, he told me something, I think you should know."
"Your Father said, he wished that you and he had stayed in touch."
"He told me he was proud of you, and loved you very much."
"He was sorry you both parted, and had gone your separate ways."
"But, he knew . . . that you would love him, even to his dying day."
He put his arm around me, with a very gentle touch,
And said, "I know your Father and he loves you very much."
He smiled at me and said, "I must be off to see another."
"Oh, by the way, would you say 'Hi' next time you see your Mother?"
As he walked out, I sat and wondered, why he left so soon?
Why didn't he, go see my Mother, in the parlor room?
He and Dad, talked YESTERDAY that was a dumb mistake!
Because, this is the second day, of my Father's wake.
I went back to the parlor and I sat down by my Mom.
I told her I was talking in the lounge with Crazy Tom.
She looked at me and suddenly, her eyes were filled with tears,
"He was your Father's closest friend, but he's been dead for years."
Created with the HTML Editor++