My dad in heaven, what a concept. Believable really.
The way I always do.
Is he really looking out for us?
Putting a good word in
With the man upstairs.
Or did he get distracted?
Talking to dead presidents
Doing first-hand research
Into history.
Or just relaxing with wine and books,
Some classical in the background.
Has he forgotten us?
Would that be heaven then?
To forget,
To forget the victories and the sadness,
Everything broken, your life, your heart.
Your family.
Wings, but refusing to fly.
That, I understand.
© 2006 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 936 times
Written on 2006-10-15 at 09:38
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Dad was Never an Angel
And I wonderThe way I always do.
Is he really looking out for us?
Putting a good word in
With the man upstairs.
Or did he get distracted?
Talking to dead presidents
Doing first-hand research
Into history.
Or just relaxing with wine and books,
Some classical in the background.
Has he forgotten us?
Would that be heaven then?
To forget,
To forget the victories and the sadness,
Everything broken, your life, your heart.
Your family.
Wings, but refusing to fly.
That, I understand.
© 2006 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 936 times
Written on 2006-10-15 at 09:38
Tags Loss 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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