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by Anne Di Baguette

Months flash and fade

A few photos mark the dates

I often think of you

How in your stubborn pride

You’d make us wait

Years between phone calls

Then show up and expect everyone to stand and applaud

In your arrogant distain

You’d wonder where you went wrong

With us, why we had such disregard

For you and all your sage advice

Sitting in trucker café’s with coffee for hours

Upon hours watching you listen

To yourself talk about yourself

And then the promises

Always promises

Promises, dreams and blame

Oh daddy

Your life is an illusion

But you’re still making me pay for it

With mine



Posted on 12/01/2017
Copyright © 2023 Anne Di Baguette

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 12/01/17 at 09:22 PM

I'm sorry if this is how you feel! My mother left when I was only six or seven. I only saw her at most six or seven times before she died in her 80's and the last she did not know who I was. I did survive and am ok at least with in reason. I haven't killed anyone yet!! Take care.

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 08/28/18 at 11:20 AM

Anne, congratulations on POTD. Your poem is just wonderfull and touchingly bittersweet.

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