Monday, 24 April 2017


Like poems?  Maybe you'll like this one.
Hankies at the ready, three, two, one - go.

            I'll See You In The Morning.

            And so to bed my little lad, I'll see you in the morning,
            there's new adventures to be had with each new day aborning.
            Though not for me alas, my son;  my days on Earth are fading,
            the doctor says I'm nearly done and Death comes 'serenading'.
            I'll not be here to watch you grow in each new bright tomorrow,
            I must confess I'm feeling low and in the grip of sorrow.
            I won't be here to hold your hand each time you trip and stumble,
            though not exactly what I planned it does no good to grumble.

            I stand and watch you as you sleep and nearly cry a river,
            you've given me a joy so deep, but now I feel a shiver.
            My time is short, but I'll give thanks as long as I am able,
            though soon enough I'll join the ranks of 'one short at the table'.

            So many things I want to say before I have to leave you,
            it's not my fault I cannot stay, but you'll have mum to cleave to.
            Be strong for her my little man, she'll need you in her sadness,
            give mummy all the help you can and be a source of gladness.

            Perhaps in time she'll wed again;  if so my little laddie,
            should that occasion happen, then - please don't forget your daddy.
            I'll keep an eye out from above, I'll see your joys and sorrows,
            you'll always have your daddy's love throughout all your tomorrows.

            Goodnight to you my little lad, I'll see you when you waken,
            and I will always be your dad - you will not be forsaken.
            I've stood and watched you for a week since I learned I was dying,
            each night I've stooped and stroked your cheek and couldn't keep from

            Tomorrow I will play a game - pretend that I'm immortal;
            that things will always be the same and I won't pass Death's portal.
            So rest your head my little lad, I'll see you in the morning,
            a bit more time to know your dad - another day's aborning.


Mike said...

Thanks for making me cry...

Kid said...

Always a pleasure to make a grown man cry, M. Usually I use withering sarcasm or indulge in fisticuffs, but poetry seems to work just as well on occasion.

Colin Jones said...

Today is the 29th anniversary of my sister's death so I was feeling sad anyway and that poem has made me more sad. It's a lovely little poem though.

Mike said...

You big softie!

Kid said...

Sometimes it's good to be sad, CJ - it can be cathartic. Raise a drink of lemonade in your sister's memory.


I know, M - I'm famous for it. (Incidentally, 'fisticuffs' is pugilism, not anything kinky.)

paul Mcscotty said...

jeez that was a sad one - lovely sentiments all the same in a terrible situation. Sadly like many other people (like Colin) I have seen this scenario play out to often in real life.

Kid said...

Yeah, kinda plucks at the heartstrings, doesn't it, PM? Like all the best poems do.

moonmando said...

Lovely poem. There's no guarantees for anyone of us in this life.

Kid said...

You sure, Moony? I'm sure I got a 6 month guarantee with my life. Course, it's no longer valid, so I should've taken the extended option.

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