I've been through doors that made me happy.
I've gone through doors that made me sad.
Behind doors it did excite me.
Behind doors I've often cried.
Behind doors I saw my father.
As he lay so still when dead.
Behind doors I felt the sorrow.
As I lay upon his bed.
Too late to say I'm sorry.
The words for him or I to say.
We stood by what we thought was right.
I stand by it every day.
His door to life is closed now.
But his memory is always there.
His leaving wasn't his choice.
It really wasn't fair.
I still talk to my father.
No better one could
I find.
Because he's not here in person.
He is always on my mind.
My dad and I were not speaking at the time of his death. For stupid reasons. It could have been easily forgotten. Let your loved ones
know that you care. Before it's too late.
