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To My Father On His Birthday

by David Maurice

My Father is so predictable

I always know where he's at

The man never changes his clothes either,

It's the same suit every day

Yes that's right, all weekend too.

Can you imagine your father

mowing the lawn in his Sunday best?

I can't.

Doesn't matter though,

my dad never mows

Why you ask?


He's dead.


Author's Note: Life never pulls her punches.

Posted on 08/17/2014
Copyright © 2021 David Maurice

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Mo Couts on 08/17/14 at 07:54 PM

Wow. Not what I was expecting, but still, powerful. Nicely done.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/18/14 at 12:51 AM

A unique take on death. I like how you've used his suit in this. This does punch. Thanks.

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