Every day my Papa worked to help to make ends meet,to see what we would eat, keep those shoes upon my feetEvery night my Papa would takeand tuck me in my bed,kiss me on my head after all my prayers were saidGrowing up with him was easy time just flew on by.The years began to fly through his age and so did II could tell that Mama wasn't well.Papa knew and deep down so did she, so did sheWhen she died, Papa broke down and cried.All he said was "God, why not take me?"Every night he sat there sleepingin his rocking chair.He never went upstairs, Oh, because she wasn't thereThen one .......