T’was a Man with Two Sons and a Daughter of One
T’was a man with two sons, and a daughter of one
And too often a day they had seen
When the strife of this life and the joys that were rife
Shaped the morrow and things that had been.
Each morn they would wake and the day they would take
Through the back door they moved rather swift
To the world just outside, where no treasure could hide
From this brood in full search of its gift.
They’d climb on their steeds of two wheels and speeds,
Make for ramps and back trails of dim light.
They’d roll through the town, full and free, never bound
In the search of new sound and new sight.
The youngest one, Shell, was quite often in hell
As the eldest and middle would tease.
Her dolls they would snatch, and by rope they would catch
So to swing by a noose in the breeze.
The middle boy, Chris, was no stranger to this
For his brother would work him the same.
For while lying in bed, in darkness and dread,
Mike would sneak o’er to whisper his name.
Scared to death he would shout for that boy to get out
And for ne’er him to do that again.
But as sure as Chris thought that his threat had been bought,
Did return he as sure as “Amen.”
Now the eldest one, Mike, had a love of the bike
With the motor and chassis of chrome.
It wasn’t that odd for his prayer unto God
He’d have time to sneak out and get home.
For on more than one night, in the palest of light
Did he open the door to the shed.
While the rest of us slept, to the alley he crept
And away to the streets Michael fled.
Move ahead, now we go, to the present day throw
Midst the lives of these, Thoma by name.
Their lives, diff’rent ways, and their length, diff’rent days,
But their buds are all plucked from the same.
Shelley has seen love, a good gift from above,
With Josie as her name to us all.
While Chris writes this note, from a place that’s remote,
Where the Lord has since issued his call.
Of all of the three, there is one who will be
Ever etched into histr’y’s record.
The eldest and son, Edwin’s very first one
Lives right now in the peace of the Lord.
So to say that these few from my memory stew
Serve to bring joy and thus make you glad.
For in my mind I see Shelley, Michael, and Me.
In all three flows the blood of our Dad.
For Edwin Thoma, the father of Michael (sainted), Christopher, and Shelley Thoma.
Happy Father’s Day.