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I travel from one end of the country to the other,
Searching for answers that I may never find.
It’s getting harder to tell one city from another,
But I’m after the truth, so I don’t ever mind.

The first memory I have is of a very small home.
It was mom, dad, and I, but dad was never there.
Mom always said he was reckless and like to roam.
He left one morning heading south, no one know to where.

He was spotted that day in a hurry going out of town.
A friend saw him later that night and said, “Hi.”
But dad ignored him, trying hard to hide a frown.
That seemed a little strange; he was such a happy guy.

I’ve spent most of my life trying to find out clues
As to where he went and why he had to go.
After talking to family and friends, I do have some news.
He was looking for a warm place for us, with no snow.

The day he left, it was cold with quite a breeze,
And he wasn’t prepared for that kind of weather.
He had a bad cough and let out a huge sneeze.
He lost control and hit a truck, losing every feather.

After all these years, and my endless checking around,
I now know the truth about a father who loved me.
He didn’t just fly away, hoping never to be found.
He wanted to find a better home for us, the Perfect Tree.

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