I listened to you

I can picture your face

Your heavy breathing,

The way you sigh after every sentence

The way you spoke of my father

The man without a heart for family

As if he’s some shadow in your past

Only entering the house as some distant friend

You’d rather forget

That he is something more important than that

Sunday morning

You go to church

It’s when you get your

Greatest pleasure out of life

You sing, talk, smile, and laugh

But he’s not there,

Of course he’s not

He’s at home

Sleeping

His daughters at college

His wife, somewhere else

But that’s okay with you, because

You’d rather him be gone,

Somewhere else

So you can be

Somewhere else

Happy

Ridden of his plague