My father was murdered over 30 years ago but his memory still lives fresh in my mind. Despite dilemma in our father daughter relationship he was still my hero and a provider.
There was a silence then a group gasp As I bent over the coffin of my dad He was murdered in Atlanta Georgia Shot in the head as he left a store But such details matter no more I noticed his curly hair and miss his eyes His humor his smile his stare I know his complexion should be fair But for the mortician’s makeup He was put back together Like a puzzle with death’s muzzle Not thinking of that in the moment I planted a warm kiss on his cold cheek It would be the last
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