My Father and the Bag

I am proud being his son,

My father was a kind man,

His love and care were second to none.

On several occasions he had bravely responded to calls of duty,

Be it in the battle field,

In defence of the nation's integrity,

Or in sorting out the needs of members of his community.

Mind you, when he did all these,

It was always with a smile in his face.

This I will tell you and I am glad,

When he left this world.

True to his stand,

He left me all he had -

The good and the bad.

Mercy Almighty God,

OH, how I now miss my dad.

Alien that I am, These days I live

In someone's land.

Times are hard,

I have learned the hard way

To swallow my pride,

Without questiong, I

Carry out what others have in mind.

My dad, yes, generous were his hands,

He left me all he had.

The good and the bad.

No doubt, they are all precious amaranth posies

All the time I'll want to possess.

In case he were to come back to query

The whereabouts of the trouble bag,

All the time he used to carry,

I shall be telling him not to worry;

For in my possession it has burgeoned twice in size

And taken up all the space

I thought I could use

The other bags he left me with to place.

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Copyright Haileselassie Girmay 9/9/99.

Updated 22/6/2001