My father, Arthur Eugene Logan, Sr. (better known as "Gene") passed away on March 13, 1999. I was 17 years old and about to graduate from high school. I wrote this poem just two months after...
Honor sometimes comes too late;
it competes with time and struggles with fate.
He was friendly and sociable, had stories to tell;
the reality of war, he knew all too well.
He could draw a crowd with his unstable effervescence...
Too amicable to the bottle, for this I am distraught,
I will never forget the life lessons from which I have been taught.
He enjoyed children and they seemed to love him;
the light that was his life will never grow dim.
I never got the chance to say goodbye;
But I know he is always somewhere close by...
Honor sometimes comes too soon;
his is now in eternal bloom.
I will cherish the thought of him forever;
Honor comes, better late than never...
May his memory be blessed and may he be in the presence of his Maker. Happy Birthday...