Today is my father's 56th Birthday. Well, I don't think you age in heaven, so I think it's safe to say that today "would have been" his 56th Birthday. In honor of my father, who's passion for my writing was almost greater than my own, I am posting the poem that I wrote years ago that he said was his favorite--I read this very same poem at his funeral to honor him.
*The Butterfly*
Every creature has a story
With a beginning, middle, and end
Every creature has a journey
A battle to contend
He started off as a caterpillar
So small, so plain, so meek
Learning and experiencing very little
Dirty roads week by week
The most he could do was glance
At the beautiful and open sky
So many opportunities up there
He envied the birds flying by
Until one day he started to change
Out of sight from all the rest
In his cocoon he started working
It seemed he had a quest
His time in the cocoon seemed long
Hard work he thought went to waste
All he wanted was to grow and change
Of the sky he wanted a taste
And then one day it hap pend
Right before everyone's eyes
Out of the cocoon came not a caterpillar
But a beautiful butterfly
His wings, they dazzled many
His colors sparkled in the sun
It was his time to venture into the sky
Another journey had just begun
Indeed every creature has a story
Not every ending is what it seems
Not it's his time to be a butterfly
And begin to start living his dreams
