On Father's Day

I never knew my Father though he came home every night, I guess we didn't bother, to talk or laugh or fight. He just came in and out the door, he doesn't do that anymore, caring can be such a chore, and I can't put it right. My brother up and ran away, although his body chose to stay, and still ole Dad had naught to say, at least not that I heard. My mother was a wanton child, who roamed around the world so wild, so beautiful and full of guile, a bright exotic bird. Dad caged her in as best he could, and truly for the greater good, I'd like to ask him if I could, my thoughts on that are blurred. A quiet observer I became, I never even had a name, they seemed tohate their daily game, and yet the pot they stirred. Still ole Dad,I have to say, I miss you since you went away, your death has caused us all to pray, and that's as you preferred.