My Best Friend

He wasn't real tall,
Just five foot nine,
But a better friend,
I could not find.

With hair of red,
And eyes of blue,
The words he spoke,
I knew were true.

We'd hunt and fish,
Or drink a beer,
At ease I felt,
When he was near.

His heart of gold,
He'd share with you,
For love of life,
Is what he knew.

But now he's gone,
And I feel bad,
My friend it's true.
He is my DAD.

by Edward R. Stiner Sr.

Other poems of EDWARD R. STINER SR. (1)

Comments (1)

what a beaytiful poem, thats brins a tear to my eye really it does.