Father

Father is dead, now he can be loved

To be adored through a little girl's heart

Father is dead, rejection dies with him

We talk, we share, we never disappoint

Father is dead, memories turn in his favour

Turn him into a martyr, so those that live may rest in peace

What was the colour of my father's love?
White? Red? Blue? Or black?
What was the essence of my father heart?
Strong? Weak? Selfish? Or fear?
If you could, what would you have changed?
Nothing? Everything? Something's? Or would he just frown?
Frown in confusion? Disgust? Or not give a damn?
And what will I tell my kids of my father?
Nothing? Something's? Or a fantastic tale
Of a strange worthy man with vision and love
Of a kind loving man, a God fearing man
The root to their branches
My pillar, their foundation
My father