TO DAD

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 80, 28 April 1945, Page 8

TO DAD

Often when the golden sun Sinks behind the hill, When the evening shadows fall, And everything is still, When God’s little feathered friends Go flying to their beds — - 1 wander down the pathway Where flowers bend their heads. ’Tis there in my solitude I lift my eyes above, To gaze at the starry heavens And speak to one I love. Dear dad, -I know you’re happy, We all are happy too, You’re in God’s care so wondrous, But, oh, how I miss you. There’s a great big tear upon my cheek, ’Twas shed for you, dear dad, For I have just been thinking Of the lovely times we’ve had. Your garden is a picture, The flowers all bright and gay, The lawns are still kept tidy, Your tools are put away. Dear dad, after you had left us, 1 had a little son; He has brown eyes and, like you, Is so very full of fun. Remember Mick, your brindle dog? A faithful pal was he, Well, if by chance you see him, Just shake his paw for me. Dad, there is a pretty spot, Where brightest flowers grow, And where refreshing breezes From the sparkling sea do blow. You always loved a garden, So we teifd this one lovingly, You know it will always be to. me A sacred memory. “Brownie” (R.M.D. Wakefield), j