Posted by: Peadar Ban | April 7, 2010

Paradise With Each New Day

“Work is what you call it, so the saying goes,”
Old grandfather mumbled in his heavy working clothes
And opened the door to the first blast
Of frigid air that would winter last.

He unhooked the wind weathered barn door
That looked like his leathered skin
And smiling back at me went in.
I never saw him anymore.

The mare frightened by something so they say
Kicked out as he bent, striking him in the head.
Before he hit the ground he was dead.
The lantern fell and fire started in the hay.

He died where he would have wanted to be
When that angel came who comes for you and me,
Doing what he would have wanted to do.
My dear wish is that it be so for you.
A fool works when all is really play
And dawn brings paradise with each new day.

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Responses

  1. I love the last line, though I have no idea how you got there.

    kjm

    • Thank you. Neither do I have any idea. I’ll entertain suggestions, if they occur.


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