Angels fill in the around the perimeter and volume up the healing spaces where you used to dwell here on Earth.
They join hands to guard saddened hearts today. Happy Birthday, Dad.
Nobody could give a Sunday Spanish lesson on the coffee-colored back stairway like you. Take us to Burke Lake Park just to breathe in the fresh fall air. Let us do silly flips over the expensive white leather furniture in our attempts to be Nadia or Olga for one fleeting moment.
Thank you for being groovy. I will always keep you close to me as I teach the youth to be one iota of decent in these times. Rock that classical music mi padre.
You took time to be my hero. Timed innocent flecks of gold against a bruised sky. I am simply tired. Sitting alone in my inconsequential skin. Please remember me.
Sing amongst one of those 31 planes of rebirth. You will always be my father and my hero in the study of life. Bless you.
About the Creator
Raissa Dassel
I have been a poet since my childhood. It peaked during my misunderstood teens and now again in my 50th year of life. It would be an honor to have people respond to my thoughts. I played the piano as a child, too. It is a beautiful life.
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