The old man sits there, Looking like he used to
A man drowsy from sleep, With a smile so deep.
Who is this man? Once so full of life
Now silent and withdrawn, Unaware of life with his wife.
Who is this man? That sits quietly in his chair?
With a twinkle in his eye, Reminding me with his stare.
Who is this man? Who used to sit me on his knee,
And called me “Blossom” But now no longer knows me.
This old man is my Dad, He is not the man I once knew
But the man who showed me love, With alongside of Mum it is true.
This is the man, Who loved me warts and all
And now can’t say my name,
He’s my Dad and I love him just the same.