They Grey Hue of Love.
The Beauty of the Rainbow.
Sitting, gazing at the rainbow's end, imagining a crook of gold.
Stephanie allowed her self to indulge, in the stories that her father had told.
From an early age she had known, that her dad had been a hero,
He had never fought in the war, held a weapon or visited Ground Zero.
Much more than that, Stephanie's dad, had so much wisdom,
He spoke the truth, he did not drink and his kindness never left them.
The colour grey, he often said, was an indecisive moment,
whilst the colour red, being rich and warm, was a treasure of achievement.
Yellow was the dawn of day,smiling, bright and happy all the way,
Pink was the sky at night,with too many stories that could say,
and tell of purple moments in his mind, waiting for the opening of eyes,
Whilst green was the serenity, from my mothers eyes that had often lied.
Orange was the anger he felt, when life was so harsh, so unkind.
Blue the only colour of the rainbow left was the space within his heart.
For Dad had loved and forgiven all our faults, always cherised and never did regret.
All those colours of the rainbow, that he shared whilst I sat upon his knee,
before he went upstairs. and told my mother of his love, this he did freely.
He cherished his little girl, no one ever doubted that,
but the price he paid for the attention he gave, was never attributed to my Dad!
Stan was never my Dad, he was my mother's foster brother, but his love knew no measure and was limitless.My life is saddened by his loss, but the memories that I treasure will be with me forever.
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