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.

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