Tuesday, September 6, 2011

For The Sons And Ancestors

This for the sons and ancestors,
Ones coming before and after,
Aged oaks with distant roots,
New flowers waiting to bloom.

Let your heritage say,
Whether in heaven or hell,
Or rotting in a faroff grave,
You are the epitome,
Of the dreams and hopes,
They always had.

Let your children say,
With truth and pride,
You were a terror,
You were a nuisance,
You were devoted,
You were real.

You can only be you,
All I have to say is,
If you're truly happy,
They will always be proud of you.