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I woke up early morning
To a tapping on my window
A blue bird sitting on the sill
Asked what I was doing

Oh hey there lil bird
I'm spreading butter with a spoon
But keep it between me and you
There's a few other crazy things I do too

Like taking moon beams that I find on my floor
And putting them all in a jar
I'm saving them for something special
But as of yet I'm not really sure

I hug trees
And chase rainbows
Trace smiley faces in fogged up windows
I even glue googly eyes on my kettle and toaster so I don't feel alone

Tell me lil bird
I've always wondered
Are there creatures with wings
Scared to fly
Afraid of heights

And if there are do they go to social events
Like birds of a feather do
If they walk and don't fly
do they have to wait in a line
At the buffet for their food

Tell me of furry etiquettes and norms
Are you bound by rules
Of the kingdom of birds
Or are blue birds blue bloods

We had quite the conversation going on
My little tapping blue bird and me
That's when I opened the window spread my arms
and we were both gone
Flying away into the free
Another wonderful collaboration with Mike Hauser :)
I never got to meet my father...
He died when I was nine months old,
But his presence, I always felt
While I was growing up,
Even up to this day...

He would often visit me in my dreams,
Told me not to worry or despair,
Took my hand,
Told me I could go with him..
Which I almost did...

A few times, in high school
I felt a light push on my back
When my Home Economics teacher
Almost caught me nodding...I was
Too bored, to focus on her sewing lessons...

I was always saved from falling
Each time I climbed the guava tree...
I feel some kind of force stopping me,
Standing ahead of me,
Whenever I cross the street, even now...

My late aunt said she found me
Looking up and giggling
When at three or five years old,
I played by myself beside
My father's tall and sturdy book case...

I see his face when I go through
His dwindling collection of
Edgar Allan Poe books, including his
Law books, and a few western pocketbooks left,
All, with mottled pages now...

The matrimonial bed he shared
With my late mother is still in use...
His portrait is hung on our wall...
Today, the fifteenth of June, his birthday,
I look through his eyes, and-----

In silence, I greet him,
"Happy birthday, papa,
Happy Father's Day, as well."
In my mind, my father lives,
And my own stories of him therein dwells...

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Happy Father's Day to all fathers here on HP! ***

— The End —