Father, of the little memories
shared in potion
to the indulgence of loyal blood,
like a fairy tale, I heard of thee in echoes.

The dove that slipped away, they say.
The vine that went through the sore
The rock on the mountain top
The one I never knew.

You whisper words when life pinch like hot spice to an infant
and render strength with the last name I bear.

Listen you say for kings are not too late, not too quick to speak.
Listen for the fine things in life come in time.
Listen for the wind, listen for the sea
they bring great messages to thee.

Listen and speak when your heart is right,
for your ears will always be there for the east, for the west
for the north and the south to bring you rest.
Listen.. just listen and pray
for your time Will come.

You will win.

Donald