by Haley Johnston

Created on: June 23, 2008

Daddy's Folded Shirts~

My mom was always organized,
My father was a mess,
My mother made his breakfast,
And she chose how he would dress.

Then one day out of nowhere,
My messy father died,
But mom still made his breakfast,
To fill the gap inside.

Each day I'd wake and shower,
Then enter mother's room,
My father's shirt was folded,
I smelled his coffee's fume.

And as I grew my mother,
still laid out Daddy's shirts,
the more she keeps tradition,
The less her inside hurts,

So when I started driving,
I told mom to stay in bed,
"I don't need you to take me mom",
I'll go with Dad instead.

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