Father

Dean
Mostly loved him.
Sometimes hated him.
Always respected him.
I am my father’s daughter,
His sense of ethics
He instilled in me.
We might be at different
Points in the spectrum,
But each belief’s held strong.
One time my mother told me
When I was having a crisis
That I was like my father,
My sense of right and wrong
Never would it waiver.
He would be ninety-five today
If he were still alive.
As long as I see him in me
My father still walks this earth.

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About princessdeloso

I do many things. I even write about some of them.
This entry was posted in Creative Non Fiction, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Father

  1. What a lovely tribute to your father…

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