i'm missing my dad - he passed away two and a half years ago after battling cancer for over two decades. here's one of his two favorite poems:
miniver cheevy, child of scorn,
grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
he wept that he was ever born,
and he had reasons.
miniver loved the days of old
when swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
the vision of the warrior bold
would set him dancing
Miniver sighed for what was not,
and dreamed, and rested from his labors;
he dreamed of thebes and camelot,
and priam's neighbors
miniver mourned the ripe reknown
that made so many a name so fragrant;
he mourned romance, now on the town,
and art, a vagrant.
miniver loved the medici,
albeit he had never seen one;
he would have sinned incessantly
could he have been one.
miniver cursed the commonplace
and eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
he missed the medieval grace
of iron clothing.
miniver scorned the gold he sought,
but sore annoyed was he without it;
miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
and thought about it.
miniver cheevy, born too late,
scratched his head and kept on thinking;
miniver coughed and called it fate,
and kept on drinking.
edwin arlington robinson
miss you, dad. i feel you watching over me. thanks for protecting me in life and in death.