my dad



i fold a collar.
i fold a dollar.
and neatly to my pocket.
hair kempt.
broad shoulders,
now holders
of hope
for more than me
the more i see
i dont see me
the mirror shows my dad
the distinuished chin he has
the deep voice
you heard when he spoke
the steady cough
when he choked
neat eyebrows
that seemed to revitalise
themselves every morning
The glow of knowledge
in his eyes
his speech
like a porridge trickle
slow but sure
heavy but pure
a face of stone
with an engraved smile
and a dry tear well
a heart
that swells
for family
and dwells
with company
of normal folk.
They give respect
none to mock.
a feeling of independence
earning by scar.
still searching for my star,
i walk this earth:
a heir
in the bloodline of greats.



About kyoespeaks

“Write what should not be forgotten.” ― Isabel Allende View all posts by kyoespeaks

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: