My Dad's Place

Each day I drive past my dad's place.
My respects I never stop to pay.
Life drives me past at such a hectic pace,
Like there's never enough time in the day.

It's a beautiful site for a manor:
Green lawns roll for as far as eye can see;
Wrought iron stretches between brick pillars;
Arches, gates, asphalt roads inviting me.

The shrubs are all shaped, neatly trimmed and green.
No signs of clutter, no trace of debris.
As tidy and peaceful as ever I've seen:
No disorder, not a leaf from a tree.

I recall, last time we parted, he smiled.
Between us there was never much to say.
Now I regret that. Even as a child
Seems like never enough time in the day.

So now, each day, I drive past my dad's place.
I see row after row of white granite.
And I know as the tears stream down my face,
One of those stones has his name on it.

-Quilligrapher