Fatal Critique
When Dad died, I wrote a poem to read,
a tribute to the love he bestowed.
Tears fell as, at jet speed,
I scribed emotions that overflowed.
Before the funeral I showed it to you,
hoping you would allow me to share.
“Amateurish,” you said and I didn’t pursue.
For rhyme and meter, you didn’t care.
Just three months later I’d compiled a book;
a publisher said she was impressed.
How I loved that expression, that look
you gave me when with it was published.
*For Michael’s “I’m More Than What You Thought” contest
by Carolyn Devonshire
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