My Father Cuts A Furrow Poem by Charles Garcia

My Father Cuts A Furrow



My father cuts a furrow, true lines does he run,
My father cuts a furrow, no horses did he have,
My father cuts a furrow no fields, hills of grass,
My fathers furrows were wisdom,
This is what he had.

To his dying day his gait was straight and true,
My father was not a farmer, for the city,
All he knew.

As father cut his furrow, so does hit son, I am told,

The wisdom my Father passed on to lay dormant,
Many years, put on hold, not until the age of 78 did
I realize, not much time left, as I too was growing old,
So I write my poetry from my fathers wisdom,
That was willed to me, only way to have my stories told.

As father cut his furrow, so does his son, to pass
The wisdom, that was left from father,
God Bless his soul.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Blue Angel 13 August 2007

God Bless His Soul, His Son, and the Sound of Poetry. Thanks for sharing.

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Ivan Donn Carswell 10 February 2007

A beautiful insight Charles, and a lovely poem. Congratulations. Rgds, Ivan

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