Poem: Dad

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I think of him in earnest,

For these few minutes my mind is not at rest,

For he is no longer earthly

And the scars hurt so deeply

And easily.

 

I think of him with love,

And wonder how he has adapted up above,

His humour should help with the other deceased,

To life we are only leased,

This I understand but it doesn’t mean my pain has decreased.

 

I think of my father every day,

And think of how he has moulded me into who I am in such and such a way,

Of his smile,

How he must have looked on his wedding day at the top of the aisle

And how he has prepared my sister and I for each and every future trial.

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