I would like to dedicate the following poem to my father for putting up with me throughout my life and for his awful sense of humour. Love you, Dad!
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What she remembers from the past
Are the days the king took her out
To play with the brothers she barely knew
And had to think they're my family, too.
But, it's not their faces that she recalls.
It is the days when the king called her 'Princess'
And bought her that mouth-watering pastry or dolls.
As years went by, the Princess was gone.
She had to adjust to the world as it whirled by.
Less and less time the king spent with his daughter
All because she thought it wasn't important.
But just as she can look back on her past,
She can look forward and realise
That time is precious and the king shouldn't be cast
Aside while the Princess lives on in her paradise.
This is a story that's close to my heart
And each day counting chops our time together in half.
Forgive for my blindness and the years apart.
Let's enjoy the year ahead with a mirthful laugh,
Dad.
Merry Christmas.
YOU ARE READING
P-P-P-Poetry
PoetryMy amateur attempts at writing poetry. Don't expect too much, as this is as silly as it can be. Some though, may end up having deep meaning.
