The Dad I Use To Know
My Dad, a little honest like a Priest
Taught me how to live and feast
With bangles of gold and diamond to your wrist
After a bloated tummy chant petitions due east
Son, nothing your path spare like a beast
'Cos amongst earth you're spared not to be the least
Told me life's but an illusion of morns mist
Gentle and rough 'pends on the angle you twist
I hail this sage who but on papers make no list.
Copyright © Ginger Amee Terdue | Year Posted 2013
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