Poetry: The Book Stuck In My Imagination

So much hath birthed tension,
But this wasn’t in the case of our father.
He was the foretold alpha male,
The one who would plead for man’s forgiveness.

He was on the first page of every story
The last to kiss me and say sorry
He lived in everyone’s heart.
It was never perfect,
But it was always beautiful.

This I tell you for they do not believe me
He was my only friend as far I could see.
With a mood like that of the sea,
Always confused too. Poor slippery pill.

Papa was around as much as I wanted
And one day he became a dove
He flew and never looked back
I had my tears, but he had his freedom.
I knew he was meant for above.

The truth is he was just another book
Taking me to places, if I was willing to look.
There was a shelf that needed filling ,
And he took a chance and fitted in imperfectly perfect.


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