POETRY BY JOHN FARTHING 
  JOHN FARTHING

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 DOING TIME

TIM, TODD AND TRAVIS

I sit here and wonder,
Where my sons are right now:

Locked up, for eight months;
It's a bitch, being down;

I wait for the mail,
Hoping to here, from someone;

The mailman goes by,
Once again, I got none;

Why do I feel,
such sorrow and pain;

I know deep inside,
that nothing has changed;

They still ,are my sons, ,
I"ll love them, for ever;

Lord, please help me out,
This is quite,an endeavor;

Give me patience and peace,
Let my sorrows all cease;

Give me feelings of happy,
To this man, they call "Pappy"!

by PAPPAJOHN







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