My Fathers Hand Poem by Elliott B Wrinkleberry

I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn't there with me
He looked my way and smiled a bit, but I don't think he could see
My tears I hold until I'm alone,  I want to be so strong
Maybe he should just give up, is thinking that so wrong?

I held my fathers hand today, but I don't think he was there
And mother holds and rubs his arm, sat on a plastic chair
And the pipes and tubes and sticky bits are holding him in place
He's tired of life and all this pain, I can read it in his face

I held my fathers hand today, and told him how I cared
About the things we laughed about and stories that we shared
The last thing that he said to me, 'take care, I love you son'
he told me that he had been blessed, to spend this life with mum.

I held my fathers hand today, I know he didn't feel me
the greatest love that I could give  was holding him so near me
his eye lids close and I kiss his head and I comb his thinning hair
I say goodbye to my beloved dad, but he doesn't know I'm there.

I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn't there at all
But when I dream he  comes to me, every time  I call
And things are like they always were, where everything's alright
I'll  hold his hand for evermore, holding him so tight.