Just Another Day
By John Herlihy

Days have a way of moving forward,
With the monotony of one step at a time.
You think the world will never end;
The sun will always raise it head to shine.

It was just another day,
Until the day lost it routine feeling.
Of being nothing but just another day,
Four walls, floor and overhead ceiling.

I heard him playfully chiding himself,
As he stepped lightly down the stairs.
On his way to the garage workshop,
To find a wrench and make some repairs.

When he didn’t show up for breakfast,
I had a sinking moment, feeling concerned.
The years of our lives fled before me,
Along a pathway that seemed to be burned.

I made my way out into the open day;
The sun splashed early light every which way.
As my breath grew shorter, the minutes grew longer;
My mind was a jumble, but I had nothing to say.

I saw him finally laying flat upon the grass;
The body free of tension, the eyes looking at sky.
Death had come upon him unexpectedly at last,
He hoped to finish morning chores knowing why.

My father was surrounded by all that he loved;
The trees sparkling with sunlight and moving soft.
One moment slowly walking, the next gently shoved;
The aging body hugging earth, the soul soaring aloft.

We accept every day as a gift, just as it comes;
Freely given, without adding up any undue sums.
Every day just another day, sleeping one more time,
Until we learn otherwise as the day turns on a dime.