My Father

She was very, very angry Making noises in the background For I was his pet We stole the stage together He and I always yet Collecting tickets to be seen We played and laughed Sang and danced For he was my pet She was full of angles Lines intersecting Never making any sense He was full of circles Bubbles floating Flying in the air around I never could catch him She didn’t want me to Somehow always in the way He was my rescue My fantasy from this earth She was my heartache from which I could not escape So, we pushed and pulled All my life While he drank into oblivion He died full of circles Bubbles floating Flying in the air around She lives full of angles Lines intersecting Never making any sense I live as his pet With dreams that Make me cry She torments me everyday Making noises in the background…. For I was never her pet. Holly P. Moore November 2011