My one and only father
He remembers none of us, least of all mine and Alma’s daughter
May well smile but his memories are a mile wide, oh so wild in their precious nature
Typified strangers walk by him on the street
Steal his wayward eye if only for a while
I do cry, recalling the man he used to be way back when
Still is, if a little less blessed
Ever eager to impress, face forward albeit slightly pressed against his beating chest
Willing to take his time, start all over again
LOOK AT HER DAD! See your only granddaughter play at her playpen
The pretty thing, just about to turn three
Let us see that there is still something going on in there
Please, do me this one favour, pull up a chair and sit with me

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