Reroutes (3)

He worked a farm in summer
To save and pay for college,
Just sun and soil and sweat
He traded in for knowledge,

And though things didn’t go
Exactly as he’d planned,
He told his son that one day
He would understand.

The jobs were hard and varied,
His effort though, unflagging,
His son could never see.
Why work when pay is lagging?

And when the son was old enough,
He wanted his own brand —
Because he’d seen the toil
And didn’t understand.

In time he gained a family:
A daughter by his wife —
He knew there were no limits.
He would give those two his life —

And driving to the farm
His father’s buried on, he stood,
And said, “I understand, now, Dad.
And all of it is good.”

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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