Thirty-one days of writing, sharing, and reading slices at Two Writing Teachers.
Dad at eighty years old.
Years since you
Passed from this earth
You are missed most days.
In those ten years.
You’d love their laughter.
Plays “Wind Beneath
Your Wings” we laugh still.
My father hated the song, Wind Beneath Your Wings. He always said that it was the air pressure that kept the plane up not the wind. He usually had words preceding his comments which I can’t write. Dad was a bit of a curmudgeon at times but he was funny. He had so many sayings that would not be PC for this time of life.
He would have been ninety-one today.
*The poetry form is called an arun. Thanks to a post at If You Want Kin, You Must Plant Kin.