Who are you?
Who are you to me?
You are my father?
Oh... I see...

A father is a protector,
Defender of the land.
Chasing out the monsters,
And letting sweet dreams come to land.

Where were you my protector?
And where are you now?
This place is so cold,
Mother can't defend us alone.

This is a lymerick?
And this is a rhyme?
Is this really where,
My misery can go to hide?

If I write you a line,
Will you write me a prose?
When you visit next week,
We can see where it goes.

Add a word here,
change a word there,
Father becomes a teacher,
Even when he's not there.

Pen dashed across paper,
My turn to rhyme,
Next week I'll show you,
That line that made mother smile.

Colour back in her cheeks,
With a shout across the room,
Mother adds a line to mine,
Dad, we both have been one-uped this time.

Years have passed,
Since those early days.
Seperated by life,
Yet our family through poetry still remains.