His Own Way

Begging your pardon
I’ve not a blessed thing to say
Could you look into these eyes—
I watched my Papa die today

He went pretty easy
He went how he wanted
No extra measures called for
No one’s gonna be haunted

Asking your blessing
But what can I do for you?
You share your smile with the angels
Can you tell me what I’m supposed to do?

Papa died clean
Papa died in his own bed
Hospice got their dnr
But Papa went his own way instead

Families walk over the worst when at their best
Your heroic work is done, son, now take you rest

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About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on August 25, 2016, in Poem and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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