As a child, I vaguely remember this man,
simply tippin his hat, gently extendin his hand..
Years past, my memories still understand his sorrow,
questions are raised as to why he eva picked up the bottle..
He was there at my birth, as I was for his passing,
Now he strides with God, always aware of what’s happ'ning..
It's sad, really, he never was sure of himself,
but one things for sure, he always snatched off the shelf..
We all dwell in the past, and remember our faults
always conscious of things, we'd never do as adults..
His mistakes are my lessons, things I should learn,
like an unwritten essay, the deep knowledge burns..
Time writes books, and all we need do is take heed,
Re-write life as we see it, create life for our Seed's.

Was told this might fit better here, in this section.
Let me know what you think.

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Blow It - Topical