My father knew
His days of life were numbered
His lungs were shot
Life had worn him down
But his gentle spirit
Stayed with him
He had seen the light and dark
A gentle smile was his
Never a frown
Coal dust met him early
In his teens
Then army life
Saw him fit and fine
But malaria near killed him
And pneumonia
Life in India
A precious time
Six years of war
The heat of desert sands
The cold of winter
Fighting the Ardennes
Coming home
The land so fit for heroes
Sent him down the pit
To work again
Seventy years of age
His days are nearly over
Every day a blessing in his eyes
A loving wife beside him
A cosy bungalow
And every now and then
His horses would surprise
One morning
As the sun was brightly shining
My mother up and busy
As was her way
She heard my father waking
And this his morning prayer
Thank God, he said
Thank God, another day!
Brian Fahy
22 June 2021
Erris Poetry 