4 of July
To My father
You are greater only by a given date
When the ground-resounding natural smile and world
Could supply us with such many seeds;
You are no longer here among the sound of the bell
Struck happily;
You have become a burden, a pain,
O how many people have to die against those silly decisions?
Which they vanish within mothers’ and fathers’ heart,
Weighting with angry and frustration
Why we have to suffer inside this golden pool
For so long now?
Copyright © George Zamalea | Year Posted 2013
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