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Father

I thought he would never change; boy was I wrong.

For he was always a towering giant, my protector;

when dark clouds rolled, thunder boomed, and lightning struck,

waves crashed, and gales blasted, he stood tall, unflinching, without a crack.

A beacon of hope, a lighthouse amidst the dark.

Oh boy, what a fool was I, as you are today,

thinking a day will not come when my very own beacon cracks.

For every giant, yes child, even one with a volcanic voice, rumbling-loud yet warm and

flowing, must come to a halt against the storms.

I know, it is not fair to see such a beast;

the hunter of coffee and toast, creator of mid-summer barbecues and lifelong dreams,

crumble and pass.

Yet fairness plays no part in this charade of life.

It is simply the manner in which the gods have chosen for the story to unfold.

From one to the next, the show must go on.

Carry on, my little giant, just as those who have come before.

Recommended4 Simily SnapsPublished in All Stories, Non-Fiction, Poetry

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