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Timber
December 7, 2016
Flames of anger jump from his tongue,
Like a forest engulfed in fiery death.
Yet his branches bloom with a brighter future.
I am but one tree,
But my strong roots lead back to him,
He, who I call dad, is quickly extinguished to father,
When he behaves as a lumberjack,
Cutting me to the core.
In my trunk of memories,
He someday will urned his ashes,
And I will remember his forced path of regrowth.
© Katherine A., San Antonio, TX
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Favorite Quote:
"Where voice had failed
my pen prevailed
and like the winds, became a gale"
~Me