Father’s Day


One day a year, that’s all you get.

My age in days, in all my time.

Beyond your years, ’tis with regret,

would take to give you, one of mine.

 

This might seem like a cunning plan,

to escape my obligation.

But I conclude – it’s rude to cram,

my thanks in finite occupation.

 

I think my thanks can more be known,

by drawing from the years we’ve spent.

Instead of the thanks you think I’ve shown,

think of the things our time has lent.

 

Considering this reality,

one day of thanks’ absurdity.

Serves only a calamity,

to undisturbed affinity.

 

What’s greater still, than both our years,

is this Earth still endures.

And with it lives, transcends our fears,

that thanks endured, secure.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s