One Meaning of Poetry
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Wade Waking up to the alarm sound of cries from mothers,Putting on tattered clothes worn from dead brothers,Open up my phone, and hoping to get a text from one of my many lovers.Better get ready to go, before dad gets up with his morning bottle,
I saw him once in my entire life,
I was nine,
I still remember how he looked like,
Nothing like how I imagined,
Wearing an old navy blue cap,
The smell of dirt and oil rubbed off him,
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.
