Blessed days we’ve had,
To this my son, you and I must pride.
For the good books say,
it that makes the heart glad makes it fonder.
And now like you’ve seen son,
Our grief’s nolonger.
And every day when we wake to the sun,
Our hearts seem even stronger.
I’d never dreamed it so, that luck indeed bares no face,
It only depends, on which side you so choose to face.
So whatever does befall, may only firm your ground,
And victory will be yours to tale.
I remember years son,
When the sun would set so soon,
I’d hardly earned our lunch.
And those nights when it would not rise as soon,
Yet it knew all we had for cover was skin.
When in town, the jokes and talks were on me,
And to the mocks and pokes I became home.
My wife; your mum, beautiful as day break,
It was all more than she could take.
She said she couldn’t live on, that I couldn’t reason.
Such were the whines and lines I heard, every time she took her wine.
November always was our worst of months,
It’s then when our neighbor Sam, fed his dogs on ham,
So they could keep their youth and calm.
And as you and I weathered to stay firm,
Your mum too, like she said, needed to keep her youth.
This should explain that day son, when we both donned red,
Gifts from our neighbor Sam,
on the day him and your mum,
my wife were wed.
See Sam was a church minister.
First a church visitor,
Soon, and really soon son, my wife had visions to go to missions.
Overnight praying she talked of,
Overnight playing the town mocked me of.
And like that my son,
we were no longer worth her fantasy,
That much Sam had told her in a prophesy.
So she left sans family,
And went to live forever happily.
But like and I quote dearest son,
It that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,
I needn’t say I was thick with anger,
For together we’d been battered by hunger.
We’d survived as wretches and scathed in trenches,
Fed on crumbs as we watched them waste mounds.
Clothed in skin; our own,
It seemed so for the cloth was hair thin.
I’ve heard the world mumble,
It’s always darkest before dawn.
Look now son, upon us the sun has shone,
Brighter days, longer,
Warmer nights, safer.
You will never want again,
Though we may never have a waste in feasts,
We shall never again wander like beasts.
And if you do please son,
I may even waste you with two mums!
We may again go and watch The Godfather,
And this time not through a crevice.
For lessons of life I ask you look no further,
From the mistakes I your father have lived,
And dread we live them another.
Son, stay clear of ministers,
They don’t make good neighbors!
But blame not your mum my son,
I hope you’ve learnt dearly,
From the life we’ve lived merely,
To many, missions have been guised as visions,
Even more are the fallacies as prophesies.
Like you’ve read son,
God has always been true to our purpose,
So be glad and stay within the radar of his compass.
A ZAZA & Wilhelm Creation 2016 ©http://#zimwe.wordpress.com/Classics