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My Artist
November 21, 2011
Some call him brother, son, and husband
I call him dad
His mind is like and ocean
Just waiting for its next catch
The world is his canvas
Just waiting to be painted
The color he loves most resembles his skin
Tan
Deep and dark
His dark brown eyes
See the good in everything
He paints life
Joy, sadness, and anger
He may not always be there
But I know he cares
My father
My dad
What ever you call him
He is and will forever be
And artist
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This article has 1 comment.
Plain-Jane ELITE said...
on Dec. 9 2011 at 8:02 pm
you might want to have someone edit the spelling before posting but i think this is a wonderful poem! i can really tell you love your dad!
