This poem was written for my father, and for a good friend (Tom)
There are two versions and it is still in the works but I thought you might
like to take a look at it . I do welcome your comments as always and even
votes on which you like the best just send me an 
!!
~* He Who Was My Father *~ (1)
He who was my father,
Was a true soul,
One who lived and breathed as I have,
Who tasted life to its fullest,
And never paused to regret about it.
He who was my father,
Savored life in all its glory,
Often piping up to tell about it.
Who lived to burn his own trail through time and space,
And who walked these very same roads as me.
He who was my father,
Came quiet before my time,
And who grew to know all there was one could know of life.
To take part in all its wonders,
And its many disappointments..
He who was my father,
Was born in a time of hardships ,
When a penny was a going price,
And some foods were quiet hard to find.
He who was my father,
Knew good times and bad,
Knew happiness, and love..
And also pain and loss..
He partook of many mighty deeds,
And tasted war on the many front lines.
He who was my father,
was a hero to all..
But most of all to me..
For he was and is my father..
A man to whom I'll forever look up at as the greatest hero of
all.
April 4th 2000
By Jean
He Who Was My Father #2
He who was my father,
Wore many a faces..
In a time where a buck was the going price,
And many a things where hard to find and get..
Unless grown or built by ones own caring hands.
He who was my father,
Wore many a faces,
Both friend and son,
Father and husband..
And solider ..
With guiding hands he taught us of life,
Raised us from toddlers to respect all who'd come before us.
Shown us the paths we had to take,
And picked us up ..
when we took the wrong one,
And all our dreams shattered.
He who was my father..
Knew more then we could dream as we looked up at him like the
hero he was.
And a hero he was..
A man who put others and freedom above himself.
He who was my father,
Took life by the reigns leading it ..
Rather then being led..
With his guiding hands he molded things,
And brought it to us .. with a child's awe.
He who was my father,
Suffered with all that life had to give and take,
Yet never once did he truly buckle..
He who was my father ..
Was more then he did seem,
On the outside he seemed but a mortal man,
But to me.. I who worshiped him and looked up upon him.
Saw the hero inside this man who was my father.
And not because he fought in some war,
Or tasted things before I could dream..
Or even because he knew pain.. and yet lived through it all..
But because this man .. who I look up upon and worship is my
father..
And he loves me as I love him,
And he's shown me so very much on what life has to give..
Not once backing down .. when thrown a curve.. and not once
giving in
when pain knocked at the door,
And because he loves me for who and what I am.
Never once flinching when my foolishness led my astray.
But forever waiting near by to be the light to guide me home.
April 4th 2000
By: Jean
