FATHER

He was a kindly man, with a twinkle in his eye; a loving man, with heart of gold, who loved his family.  Gardening was his great delight; his produce of  best.  Bright mass of flowers, a lovely sight upon the mind impressed.  He worked hard all his life.  To shirk he knew not how.  Cycling to work 'gainst winter winds; I still see him struggling now.  Sometimes when we were young, an outing there would be.  Blackberry picking in country fields, remembering the Primus to make the tea.  When snow was on the ground, to the annual fair we'd go.  A ride on the swings and roundabouts, then home to cups of hot cocoa.  Many seasons have come and gone, since dear Father passed away.  But he'll never be forgotten, and we'll meet again one day.

Mg