Papa never went to war, his number was called then the Draft was dissolved, he didn't volunteer, stayed with us right here,

Papa never played pro ball, he was plenty good, plenty tall, that light was cast on others, anyway he had his druthers, stayed with us and his brothers,

Papa never raced a car, nor reached for an Olympic star,
never gambled or drank, didn't do drugs, coffee or tea,
just stayed with mom and me,

Papa loved the world, climbed its mountains when he was young, toured the back roads, watched the setting sun, sailed the seas, drove fast machines, flew on man made wings, studied the creatures, and politics, art, love of life filled his intellect,

Papa never built us a Taj Mahal, just a home filled with love, joy, happiness, and discipline, took us fishing and to work with him,

Papa never left he was always there, a strong arm to turn to, a soft shoulder on which to shed a tear, when I grow up that's the kind of man I'm going to be, a HERO like Papa was to me.

©Bruce Larson*Moore
Of Poetic*Service

Love*Rulz - (Available on DVD;)
http://www.timeless-ink-press.com