Pegging it fair evenly, albeit about to be side-collared extraordinaire
What an unjust ‘gift’ given to us by this seemingly cruel world for all of these things that we did – my father with his Parkinson’s Disease, glued to his forever wheelchair, ill-equipped more oft than not
Mind reeling, three pairs of an equal number of generational hands needing to wait this particular one out
Proud to call him our own, although a smile placed back upon that lacklustre face might be nice
Then, a priest, a nun and a homeless man step on up to the fore – each of them with a holy hand, fair wholesome and beautifully plied atop the next to bring him to another level
When everyone is all of a sudden all too prepared to hone on in for just one individual – namely our very own modern day Superman

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