Keepers Of The Flame

On sunny days, we sat by the pond,
 My beloved father and I.
 To tales of yore, I would respond,
 As golden hours passed slowly by.
 Bamboo pole lines into water cast.
 Mattered not if we caught a fish.
 Soul absorbed tales of the past,
 With each memory I made a wish,
 For days like this one to never end
 As twilight shadows began to fall.
 Our lives forevermore will blend
 I remember his tales one and all.
 The pond is yet here beside the hill
 How I wish my Father was here still.
 
Now the days seem to swiftly fly
 Since years turned my hair to gray.
 For those days I yet secretly cry.
 Many Tales, much history to relay.
 But there are none who want to hear.
 Memory that in my head still plays
 None cares about days of old, I fear,
 No one to pass on those bygone days.
 Family history is a part of them too,
 As much as it's forever a part of me.
 I write it in my books, that's what I do
 It will be there if they may want to see.
 May keepers of the flame be blessed
 Even after they are laid to rest.