Too much left unsaid

"Yer an awful bloody eejit"
my father used to say
taciturn but strong he was
yet subtle as a brick
like McGuire's goat
ravaging spring cabbages
oblivious to all disdain
so he did to my soul
but at that tearful morbid end,
too much was left unsaid

"What kind of fool did I raise?"
admonish me he would
within a weather beaten face
were eyes like fiery coals
like sows hovering above a trough
unslovenly, uncouth yet uncaring
obstinate to humble virtue
too shallow for the soul
but as he drew his final breath,
too much was left unsaid

"Get out there now ye bloody clown"
derision in his roar
when cattle broke from the fields
just like O'Reillys tethered jennet 
cacophony in its vulgar bray 
stubborn to all voice of reason
was how I saw that old man then
to pity deaf and logic blind
then as he neared that fateful end,
too much was left unsaid

"See ya Da" was all I said
my final words to him
yet from his lips came nothing
not even grunts or waves
like unsuspecting brute beasts
wandering towards the butchers knife
thinking time was theirs eternal
I spread my wings to foreign shores
but when I heard the news that day,
so much was left unsaid.