I Touch Beauty Daily

I Touch Beauty Daily

Saturday, August 25, 2012


My father’s right-hand man
Decades did not change humility
Civility learned a lesson from him
Who knew not to express own beliefs
Who knew not to profess superiority
Of education, attitude, and future
But sat, year in year out
Devising his own way to count
Money gushed like open dam daily
Wealth he counted, no salivation
Sponge in a tub of water served him
Money dried his fingers crisp
Caused phalanges to hurt
Counting all that money with spittle
Coming by way of tongue-slicked fingers

He counted all that money
Disseminated parts of fractions
Carried all instructions humbly
Invented service before it spread

Distance polarized our relationship
Never got a chance to declare openly
Bottomless gratitude cherished
Thank you for decades of service
Humble, easy going, respectful
I hope respect returned itself to him fully
Thank you so much for tolerating
Nine children and uncountable relatives 

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.

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