Instruments Of Time

With eyes that saw beyond the day
and hands that shook a bit.
He sat upon his folding throne
and puffed to keep his habit lit.
A well used pipe responded
and smoke rose in the night.
It was a time like others past
where weakened spirit drew from might.
The voice that broke the silence
of contemplation's inner place.
Then spoke of things often told,
yet each one held a precious space.
For memories became like strings
upon an instrument of time.
And when it's music reached the ears
a heart began to beat in time.
Chuckles and some belly laughs,
hands moved to brush a tear.
Though darkness gathered all around
there was no worry here.
For the one who sat with pipe in hand,
though slowed a bit by age.
Read from a book of days gone by
and I cherished every page.

Dedicated to my Dad. The hardest working man I ever knew.