Daddy Was a Quiet Man
I never saw my father cry
Until the day his father died.
Daddy was a quiet man
Unless a mic was in his hand.
A preacher in his younger days,
He taught me how to pray and praise.
A singer too—oh, what a tone!
Bass in groups, tenor alone.
Music was born in his bones.
Such a precious poem! Although he was very different from your father, this makes me think of my own.
ReplyDeleteNice. I like the portrayal of him and the rhythmn of this piece. Thank you. xoA
ReplyDeleteReally beautiful tribute to your dad :) I love the rhyme flow and the imagery!
ReplyDeleteStill waters run deep.
ReplyDeleteI felt I got to know him, almost picturing him. Sounds like a lovely man. :)
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