DYING FATHER

My father's dying and I do not believe
we did our best, him and me.
I guess I figured if I didn't call
It would be the last time
we spoke at all.
But it isn't right to avoid the man, my father.
I have this choice I can live like
the days are mine
Or remember he hasn't left much time.
And no, he didn't do his best
He's just a man and now needs to rest.
He made our days so hard and long
He made us wait, he made us mourn.
So I find it hard to find in my heart
The peace to give before he parts.
I doubt myself and my regrets.
That there are none at all in what is left.
What kind of person could I be
To turn my heart and simply leave?
Well what more could I discern
I'm my fathers daughter
It's what I learned.

--Diva