By Chris Lamoureux – Fort St. John, B.C.
I see wheatfields of gold,
I smell clover that’s been freshly mowed,
I hear a milk cow’s contented sigh,
That is when I feel you nearby.
The sound of an engine finely tuned,
Lilac bushes freshly pruned,
Oat sheaves being put into a stack,
All these bring memories of you back.
An Arabian gelding being ridden in the early morn,
An old straw hat, like you had worn,
“You are my Sunshine,” the song you’d always sing,
An ache in my heart these things bring.
The friends and neighbours at my door,
You always said, “Take time for one more,”
These are memories that I have,
Of you, my Dad.
In memory of Walter Osterlund, 1928-1981
