You sit upon a shelf amongst your peers;
A poem book my father gave to me.
A treasure that I've kept these many years;
Your neighbors not half read as well as thee.

Your dog-eared pages stained by passing time
Hold words, immortal, that will never fade.
Though mortal souls did put these words to rhyme,
And carved a place in history they made.

And as a lad, before I learned to read,
I craved to hear the sound of written word,
And what I found to satisfy that need
Would be the rhyming poems that I heard.

So when the hour was late and time for bed,
I'd find my father sitting in his chair,
And I would plead to have some poems read
Before he tucked me in with Teddy Bear.

He'd then bring out that treasured poem book,
And I would snuggle up against his chest.
It took no time at all for him to look
And find the poems that I liked the best.

And so I'd fall asleep there in his lap
With visions from those verses in my head,
And then around me his strong arms he'd wrap.
Then gently carry me up to my bed.

I long for that sweet time back in the past
When Father read that poetry to me.
And all those mem'ries that I have will last
Until my Earthbound spirit is set free.

And then again I'll sit on Father's knee,
And he'll lean close and whisper in my ear
Those poems that he used to read to me
That I, for many years, had longed to hear.