We laid him down to rest last week
The old man of ninety five
Mighty calm he was about his dying
Called for the priest
And made his peace with God
As if God had ever been at war with him.
I sat and held his hand and watched him go
Quietly as he had lived
Did he know that I was there
Or knowing, even care
After all, it was my mother whom he loved
One thing’s certain, he’ll be missed.