I've
always thought that nothing will beat the flowers your father will give/gave
you. It'll be the benchmark of any future material manifestation of admiration
from men that will waltz into your life. It will define a part of you as a
woman, the amount of mirth mixed with unguarded surprise that you'll display
and just how gracious you can be as you accept any other token of love.
You never gave me flowers
Papa, maybe that's why they somewhat make me sad, their beautiful deaths put on
display as they deliver hallowed promises one after another. This time instead,
I bring you one. So unlike the little girl in me once wanted. The tables have
turned. May we create quite a spectacle for you up there in glory.
Happy
birthday, Pa.
And
today, despite of myself, I somehow miss you
=============================================================================
I am really trying to finish this series, regardless of how late it is. I apologize. May I be better next month or the next lifetime.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Well hey :) Is there something you would like to say?