Father

Mourning in a breath, that's tethering him still to the day
Mourning as the baby-breath at the bedside slowly withers away
Mourning in a late December hearth
Cradled in the berth of memories that are endlessly reborn
Memories reborne
In the mourning of the day

Mourning in the memories, memories of the places, he will never see again
Mourning in the vastness of passed upon chances, of a past that won't return
Mourning in the daytime, daytime in the wasteland of his graceless decay
In the mourning of a day
In the mourning of a day

Morning blends to evening as senses receding leaving nothing a man
Mourning in a heaving as the spent soul slow and silently ends
Mourning an old man's absence
Lied out in state at the other end of the entrance
With no semblance left to keep for me, but remembrances to weep upon

I sometimes see your face, faded and aged
And I don't want to wait for it to be late
For that final stage
To say thank you
For the sacrifices made, for all that you gave me
Before the final dawn, many a day's still to come and I want it to be said
The only way I can say it
Say it in song

Got to know I love you father
You won't be alone Father