My dad would call me Dumple
Which happened much more than once
In fact he called me many times
Nothing but a dunce

My mind soon became a Buddhist
Believing that everything I see
Is something here to guide me
Throughout all eternity

After leaving home at fifteen years
Then returning for short visits
We would talk the talk of everything
From planting things to rivets

I knew myself who knew me best
But whenever I was there
A feeling of unworthiness
Always lingered in the air

He was a man of kindness
To so many kinds of folks
In fact they relied on Herman
To change their wagon's spokes

Now I simple turn to Jesus
Where LOVE is found in spades
And really respect old Herman
And the decisions that he made

(Dumple ~ December,2005)

by John Dustman

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