My Father
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A father is suppose to be an anchor and a guide. My father was that and more to me.
He shared his love for nature and all God's creatures. I recall from the time I could
walk, taking his hand and we would go on an adventure, he whispered that in my ear.
He had special places to show me and he would talk and talk. He loved to do projects
and I would sit beside him at his bench. I loved to watch him, I admired his hands.
He kept a messy workshop, but it had charm. My father had a good sense of humour.
Always playing jokes on mother, that made me laugh, odd, I seldom laugh anymore.
A father is always proud, and mine was. Everything I did was a big deal to him. And
my father knew that I had a sadness in my heart and he tried his best to mend my
broken heart. The day he died I was shattered, totally, and I held that hand I loved
for the longest time.
father cannot see
my sad tears that are falling
on his mossy tomb
_______________________________
May 17, 2016
Poetry/Haibun/My Father
Copyright Protected, ID 16-791-542-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Second Chance 2,
sponsor, Eve Roper
Third Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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