My Father
My father,
World traveler,
Humble but proud,
With stern hands,
But a soft gaze,
Who Talks honestly,
But never excessively,
And Loves selectively,
But always wholly,
Advocates education,
But misspells “Salad”
My father,
An ass to some,
A friend to many,
Gullible to none,
And a Dad to two.
They say I look like him
But there’s no way I do.
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What I like best about the poem is the complexity of tone–starts off matter-of-factly, continues more pointedly, and ends with a rhyme that belies the distancing in the last line. Love it.