My Father, My friend



fortunate son of a misfortunate father
his world paid him no mind, they would not bother
choking on bullshit the more he would trust
his youth passed away like wind carried dust

worked like a dog, his fingers to the bone
yet not one piece of the dream was ever his own
a wife and a son, a family to protect
but for all of his efforts he was paid with neglect

a solitary man with purpose and pride
he was honest and true, direct in his stride
gentle and kind, though not without fault
his son was a bastard, the curse of his salt

his grief was not shown, it wasn't his way
yet pain was the sun that lighted his day
still he prevailed, refusing to fall
steady as a rock, hard through it all

he loved his child and his boy loved him too
but they led seperate lives, to each they were true
one carried the cross, the other great thirst
slaves to their spirits yet which was the worst

not eye to eye nor seldom agreed
love was what suffered and the woman did bleed
forgiveness conditional and neither would bend
great was the loss of my father, my friend.

Don Williams Jr.
in memory of my dad,
my hero
Don Williams Sr.