Running On Empty


The weekend was near

You could tell by his voice

The wife had some chores

Then the beer his big choice

And young work-mates grinned

As he told his tall tales

Of women and wildness

And jobs tough as nails

His eye had the look

Of a maddened trapped bull

But not to expect

That his life was not full

He worked overtime

To impress with it all

But really how empty

And truly how small

His kids scarcely knew him

And all gone away

And even years past

There was little to say

Of hopes they had treasured

And fears they had hid

A re-run so sullen

Of him as a kid.

He knew what I stood for

The Gospel and grace

And glad moderation

Thrown back in my face

But prayers had been offered

That he might receive

Impressions of Jesus

And how to believe

The fullness so near him

And love of pure strain

The Man of all men

Who could fix every pain

Could plant bold ideas

And jobs meant for good

And sure not the first time

He’d fixed up a hood.

Published by Doug Blair