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He was somebody's Dad; he had not seen his kids,
For years He wondered where they worked, where they lived.
His life had been hard and he made it much harder,
With choices that proved wrong as time went on longer.
We talked about his life, Billy laughed and he cried,
He was somebody's Dad and He died.
Billy always had dreams that he shared till the last,
His projects were many and some of them were past.
His canes, there were many hand-carved with an eye,
Towards beauty and strength and he made them so fine.
When I last saw the man he was worn-out and drawn,
I called him by name he responded and smiled.
The picture he had on the wall near his head,
Showed a truck in a storm with God overhead.
The first time we met, I asked Billy about God,
He pointed at the wall and said "That picture tells it all.
My faith is much like the man in the truck,
He knows that overhead God is watching him work."
Billy said with a grin, "I depend upon God,
To follow me through every storm that I have."
Billy talked about God and his faith now and then,
He'd point to the picture and say nothing has changed.
"Tom, what I told you at first about my faith in the lord,
To this day it remains as I told you before."
The last morning I saw him Billy just smiled,
I remembered our talks about God over time.
So now Billy's gone and I miss him and pray,
That the Lord welcomed him as he died on that day.
He was somebody's Dad and he knows now for sure,
That the God in the picture was waiting for him.
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