My disdain has filled you, for this, I cry,
Life's fleeting waters now over the wall,
My ability gone was mine when small
To lift you up so you could feel the sky.
Your far-away voice, and I dare not pry
Nor try to restrain a path's destined fall
For fear of the choice to silence our call
Leaving me helpless, this heart in a sigh.
Short is the season to bond with cement,
And brief is God's time to mold or affect,
But long are the days that we will lament
The loss of our chance to guide or direct.
Grief to a father, his moment now spent,
The son's world to harvest—a dad, reject!
John Sparks