PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The book it lies upon the bed,

The story many a times has been read,

The pages lay open, tattered and torn,

From callused hands that had lovingly worn,

Cover to cover, between the lines,

With consideration, over time,

Ther was once a boy, the story goes,

Who loved a little girl, and watched it grow,

Though hidden from others, that love was deep,

And is heart, he wished to keep,

Here there lying by his side,

To have and hold til the end of time,

Well, it took awhile, but his dreams came true,

Their love for each other, shone through and through,

He took her to be his loving wife,

Little did he know, she would have a short life,

The pregnancy seemed to be going fine,

But the doctors worried after a time,

The the baby was strong and healthy, it lived,

But the mother had given all she could give,

So he held her hand and watched her let go,

The pain he held inside, never let it show,

He raised the girl, as fine as could be,

Named her after her mother, Charity,

Well, now he lies upon the bed,

The last time the story by him would be read,

He closes the book, hands it to his daughter,

She kisses, his cheek, says "i love you, father",

He lays there, looking thin and frail,

And there dissappears the last link of this faded fairytale.



-inspired by the title to the Jack Johnson cd "Brushfire Fairytales"-