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Nicholas David Klacsanzky : Poet and Pundit

My Father
Home

(second draft)

My Father

I always had a small head,
triangular and delectable.
One would slice my melon
to eat bitterness for breakfast;
dinner, a jab of wisdom.

I grew to a balloon,
forgetting inattention to you -
a lord of skies, whose breath
carries me through the fields
of folly, into the valley
only seen by the sensitive eye.

My Father (First Draft)

I always had a small head,

triangular and delectable.

One would slice my melon

to eat bitterness for breakfast;

dinner, a jab of wisdom.

But I grew to a balloon,

forgetting inattention to you -

a lord of skies, whose breath

seems to carry my weight through

the fields of death, into the valley

only seen from the sensitive eye.