"A Father to Hold me Close"

When I feel sad and low deep to the woods I go,
where moss covered trees form a blanket of green
and multicolored hues, shine brightly on the ground.

There the birds are free to fly between the vines
forming a merry-go round for the apes passing by,
eying acorns on the ground that squirrels have found,

under the mighty oak trees spreading their branches
to form a canopy of darkness all around without light
where peace may be found feeding my mind to rest.

This weariness of life that I sense in the streets,
where stressful eyes belie believing they are happy
in a world, where few care for who or what you are.

To those who ponder - How may a blind man
sitting in a wheel chair, hiding behind the wall
in the old age home know of such beauty?

There was a time, Dad held my hand
to love and teach me in faith and hope,
pictures in my mind hands to touch the bark

my feet upon the grass, him to hold me close.
The child that was blind, but with a memory
to remember this beauty in God’s holy ground.

Old, knarled and grey like the oak tree,
I write this poem - Tears of happiness
in Braille - God's charity for me to see.