He just sat there softly


As his days of work

were done.

And he smiled a little sadly

That his race was almost run.


But he still had

Sense of humor,

And he liked to make folks


And if I wrote forever

I couldn't tell you half


Of all the funny stories

That he really

Liked to tell,

For my memory won't

Hold them

And perhaps

It's just as well


For that let him

Tell them over

And hear merriment

And mirth

As he listened to my laughter

While his time

Wound down on earth.


And my prayer now that

He passed on

Down that last long

Winding mile,

Is that he had one

For the angels

That would truly make them



     © 1998 Nona Kelley Carver

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