My Father, My Friend

Missing my Father; My friend; My everything, so dear,
It's my fathers' voice that I wish to hear.
The comfort, the care, the scent of his favorite beer;
The taste of the chilli he prepared with deer.
Sometimes memories of him bring me cheer,
but sometimes they're followed by tears;
Though my eyes slowly clear,
As I remember that at the big ol'e gate my Father will appear,
with an out reached hand, as if saying "come here",
Then he wrap me in his arms subsiding my many fears.

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