You were in and out of my life for as long as I can remember

In a place, you might as well call home

Three walls, behind bars, all alone

You made friends whose names were pen and paper

Opening my mailbox, I remember receiving my first letter

Reading the empty promises and a bunch of sorrows

The only thing that always stood out to me

Was your sense of humor along with your poetry

I can recall my favorite one –"Motel-6”

“Check-in with an offense, check-out on bail. This isn’t “Motel-6”, this is Motel Jail. If you’re feeling uncomfortable while your being booked in, wait until you put on that bright colored orange jump suit, that don’t feel so Comfort-inn…”

Committed was the last vocabulary you used for me

Matter of fact, you used that word towards your poetry

I give you props you made words come together like pieces of a puzzle

But to call you my “mentor” that made me chuckle

One thing I inherited from you was your talent

Your friends became my best friends they gave me balance

Writing became second nature when you were absent

When I’m happy, sad, feeling inspired, or mad

I would simply pick up my pen and paper

Just like you Dad

Thank you for giving me a gift I will cherish forever

From your pen-pal, your daughter, see you whenever...