The End

Dad’s life had so often been tough Five years ago he’d had enough He grew increasingly unwell In his physique this you could tell

For him many arrangements made So people would come to his aid To help him through his twilight years And overcome his many fears

Latterly on Friday each week I would call and with him I’d speak He still always knew me by name Things with him then were much the same

The weeks continued to fly past It appeared he was holding fast The day before he died we spoke Shared a story and a joke

He looked fine yet said something odd What he meant I will leave with God As it seemed he’d go on and on It’s hard to believe that he’s gone