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a storybookGreatest Book Ever Written

A man stopped by the store on his way home from work
And perused the wire framed shelf
A sigh of frustration escaped from his slumped frame
And he turned muttering “Guess I’ll write one myself….”

For weeks amidst empty boxes from pizza deliveries
And the phone that often made its way to his ear
He called oh so often hoping to talk to his sons
But on each call the machine picking up is all he would hear.

So he turned to the computer and prayed for the words
That would unlock the love to him which was forbidden
And encourage his sons to just pick up that phone.
He needed to write the greatest book ever written.

Oh how he laughed if the theologians would discover
For that title had been handed out already
He had no interest of being judged wrongly once more
So he pressed on to his writing, patient and steady

On the wall were three pictures, quite dusty by now
Of two sons smiling on their graduation day
And a third of a father mother and two sons
Whose life now seemed so far, far away

The man had no time to enjoy any time off
How he labored at his efforts with love
Writing down stories and quips that he gathered through his life
All the names places and events that he had recollection of

From the patient’s chair he heard the news
That he had cancer. The doctor asked if that troubled his mind.
“Well I don’t mind the dying, cuz that’s life guarantee
But I’ve got something to finish and I still hopes there is time”

Back to the typing with a vengeance he labored
And on the last day he would spend here on earth.
He bound the manuscript and sent a copy to his sons.
And prayed they might find it to have worth.

The mother, protective, and discreet and selective.
Found the parcel which arrived the next day.
Seeing it came from the man she divorced,
She simply walked it out to the can and tossed it away.

At the man’s funeral, a small quiet man
Stood up to give the man’s eulogy
And the woman was in front with her hand on each son
Crying loudly and stood up for the congregation to see.

Everyone consoled the poor woman in her grief
And she protectively held the arm of each son
With the man called beyond this life, she finally smiled
For she felt her work on this earth was now done.

But the small quiet man pressed forward and purposefully
And he reached out to give each son a firm hand.
Then he pulled from his satchel two bound copies of a book
And told them to read this, then you’ll understand.

The woman reached out and attempted to gather,
the books from her sons but failed
She protected her sons from the man she divorced
All his life, but in death truth prevailed.

The elder son opened his book and the words that he read,
Made him do something he had not done before,
“I will always love my sons” were the words he first read,
And the meaning made him cry all the more.

The man he was told never cared once for him,
Had opened his heart to his sons.
And in putting himself into his book for his children
There was no more of him left when he was done.

With each page he read, each son came to learn
That the father they had been taught to hate.
Had loved them, unknown to them, more then most men can love
And they began to regret his lonely fate.

The next day the sons took out an ad in the paper,
And described how their father’s book was forbidden
But in the words he had written each son had come to learn that
Their father was the greatest man from the book he had written.

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