Dad

Some stories never can be told

By anyone but dad

He shares with us the days of old

Some happy and some sad

He’s quite peculiar so he claims

A thought that’s all his own

Young at heart, he’s still playing games

He’s never all alone

He’s likable and lots of fun

And plants a garden, too

Above all else, there is no one

He’ll like much more than you

Dona Reynolds

South Whitehall