He still counts his blessings

He lost his folks when he was only fourteen years old but luckily he had faith
His loyalty didn’t leave the Lord after he cut two fingers off on a lathe
He prayed to God almighty when his  wife lay terminally ill with cancer 
They met as partners at the Samba class she was a brilliant flamenco dancer
Then as he sat beside his daughter in her hospital bed
his psalms and prayers secretly went whirling around in his head
Just like her lovely Mother 
Clare caught cervical cancer
tho she swore she would get over it she was an enthusiast romancer

Fidelity of faithfulness is his hidden strength that kept him going
on each and every hospital visit with his backwards and forwards toing and a’froing
But the troth of truthfulness is that he had seen her plight before 
the day he held her Mother’s hand 
that dreaded day his heart fell thru the floor 
“Look after our Katie” was the last whispering words he heard
He remembers this though everything else in that moment in time is just beclouded and blurred
“Oh Doreen my love I tried my very best” as he kissed his daughter’s forehead when she shut her eyes in rest

So he strolls past the daffodils thru the graveyard to the church listening to the Skylark singing perched upon the Silver Birch
He still counts his blessings coz he can hear, smell and see
Our world is full of hardup people not as fortunate as he
Shaking the Reverend’s hand he finds himself a pew
Sitting at the back on the second last row just like he does always do
He opens his hymn book and turns to number one hundred and twenty three
His voice is overshadowed by the lady infront of him singing so sweetly
So he feels contented he has joined in the Holy prayer along with all of the regular friends and faces that worship with him there