Last Rounds

A poem for my father, whom by a grace from God I was able to find poetry in real time. My father worked hard during his career as a boiler plant operator/building engineer. Part of the job is doing rounds around the building and mechanical equipment. Using his knowledge and keen eyes for making sure everything is in working order. Now retired he asked me to accompany him as he volunteers to open and close the local church daily, and then it hit me.

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Last Rounds

Nights, weekends, and holidays
You spent working away
Providing for us a sheltered life
Never once showing an ounce of strife

Heavy eyes and tired legs
Giving up on parties and kegs
Boilers roaring on cold winter days
Gaining wisdom and showing your grays

Eventually becoming chief of the plant
Garnering respect where the rough would not rant
For everyone knew what they would lose
Bury hatchets and move on from the news

I blinked and now I can see
How unfair time can sometimes be
For now I grow sad that you are old
And it makes the summer breeze feel cold

Now a trip you invite me to see
And then some wisdom befell upon me
The Lord has some last rounds for you to make
And some of His Divine poetry shall I partake

Open the doors and let His people in
Close up at night and tuck the Lord in
Check the heat and the donation box
Check the lights and secure the door locks

The Lord has one more round for you Dad
I love you and I'm no longer sad
Because God is providing your way
And I cant wait to see you there one day