Poems by Pat Fleming

I sit upon my front porch stoop
Beneath the morning sun.
Grateful for the moment spent
Away from everyone.

The air is fresh and slightly chilled,
The sky is blue and clear.
The silence that surrounds me now
Is music to my ears.

I love the morning best of all,
It's my most tranquil time,
When the promise of a brand new day
Can ease my troubled mind.

When second chances seem more possible
And the world less cold and dark,
And hope can somehow pierce the walls
Of my sad and aching heart.

When left alone with nature
All the world seems far away
And the woes of life so trivial
When wrapped in her embrace.

But alas the birds awaken
And begin to sing their songs,
And people slowly wander by
And nod as they go on.

The sun has now grown brighter
As it rises in the sky
And in the distance there's a whistle
As a train goes lumbering by.

The world is calling out to me
To jump back in the fray.
To have faith things can get better
And let go of yesterday.

So today I get to start again
By the morning light renewed.
Feeling brave and energized,
There is nothing I can't do.

He grew up in a town where people were poor,
In a family quite wealthy with love.
He was raised by two parents who were stable but strict
And taught him to trust God above.

The days of his youth were like everyone else,
Filled with both good times and bad.
But he learned to look forward and follow his dreams
And be grateful for all that he had.

And then at 19, it was time to escape
From the shelter and safety of home.
So he went off to the Navy in search of himself
And to finally stand up on his own.

When tragedy struck and his ship was destroyed,
Torpedoed and lost to the sea,
He learned just how quickly his whole world could change
And how frightening and short life could be.

So when he returned to family and home,
He found where his future now lied,
And he studied and worked and had children,
With the love of his life by his side.
           
And the rest, as they say, is just history,
But my story all started with him.
He raised me and loved me and taught me what's right,
And I hold him forever within.

The man I've described is my father,
A man of whom I feel so proud.
He was loving, and honest, and decent,
And his humor brought sunshine through clouds.

And it's true that today he's no longer with me.
His laughter and hugs are now gone,
But my deep love for him remains in my heart,
And his memory forever lives on.

But I hope from the heavens he still could look down,
And I hope through the years he could see
Just how hard I have strived to be just like him,
So he could still feel proud of me.

Seven AM and I sat at the light,
Watching the train chugging by.
A day like the rest, on the way to my job,
Just routine with no feeling inside.

The morning was frigid and snowy,
Just thinking how cold he must be.
But there I could see him wrapped up on the stoop,
In that blanket he found on the street.

That cold, concrete stoop, at that old, empty store,
The place that for years he called home.
He sat there each day, never meeting your eyes,
Just contented to be left alone.

The weeds by the tracks were his bathroom,
His food was a bottle of wine.
His clothes were all dirty and tattered.
He was drunk or passed out all the time.

To see him you'd think he was no one.
He was barely a man anymore.
A failure to the ones who once loved him,
And a burden to the rest of the world.

But those who once knew him in the days long gone by
Would tell you how wrong you would be.
For in fact, it's quite true that this lost, broken soul
Was once just like you and like me.

He woke up every morning in a home of his own
That he shared with his son and his wife.
He worked every day as a painter by trade
And thanked God every night for his life.

People who watched him admired his ways.
He was caring and decent and good.
He worked harder than most to provide for his son,
And for neighbors he did what he could.

Life was a struggle, and times could be bad,
But he always found strength to go on.
He wanted the best for the people he loved,
Never dreaming that soon they'd be gone.

It happened in winter on a dark, snowy day,
In a storm that had moved in quite fast
That his wife ventured forth to pick up their son,
And neither survived when they crashed.

From the day they were buried his friends rallied round,
But he was lost despite how much they tried.
And even today when they speak of him still,
They say it's as if they all died.

And when I last sat at that light, by that stoop,
I saw he was no longer there.
The store still sat empty and was now boarded up,
And I wondered if anyone cared.

But later I learned on that stoop where he lived,
That place that he once made his home
He too passed away on one cold winter's day,
Long forgotten and left quite alone.

So should you pass by a lost soul such as this,
Be careful how harshly you judge him.
For you can't ever know how loved he once was,
Or how valued his life may have been.