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Rated: · Poetry · Emotional · #1418910
Poem about a girl and her fathers' relationship throughout her life.
At four years old they left,
Because her father was never home.
He was a hunter and workaholic,
So her mother decided to leave him alone.

Eleven years later,
He is still not being a dad.
"I am too busy working," is his excuse.
Finally she is getting mad.

Slowly they saw each other,
Less and less,
A week, month, and finally a year.
Oh what a mess.

She finally got a chance to see him,
After begging her mom to take her,
When she went to court to take him to jail.
But in the end all it caused was pain and no answer.

Walking in to the court house,
Butterflies fluttered, and doubt entered her brain.
Then she saw him and was elated,
But what happened she cannot explain.

Taking in the unfamiliar surroundings,
She did not notice him at first.
But when her eyes glimpsed him,
She felt as if she might burst.

He did not look like anything she remembered,
He was unshaven and shabby,
Wearing a T-shirt, tennis shoes, and jeans.
And he definitely was not happy.

As soon as he realized she was there,
Tears burst into his eyes,
"Oh I really wish you did not come today," was all he muttered.
She is hurt by his comment because she thought it was wise.

"I do not want you to see me go to jail," he says,
"But I only came so I could see you."
For a moment they sat in silence,
Waiting for the other to say, "I love you too."

He promised to call and even come to see her,
Leaving, she felt a little glad,
But it has been two months and still not a sound.
Finally she is getting mad.

Every day she calls him,
Three rings and then the machine.
Sometimes she will leave an answer,
And other times she thinks he is too mean.

He clamed his phone,
Was not allowed to accept calls.
"So how does his work get in touch with him?"
She can see his downfalls.

He is an expert liar,
But now she has had
Years of experience to see through him,
Finally she is getting mad.

Every time he breaks a promise,
A hole is stabbed,
Right through to her fragile heart.
And finally I am getting mad.
© Copyright 2008 Kelly Dean (kellybelly23 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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