A Poem


Even when it doesn'e feel like it,
You are there
Mending scrapes,
Bandaging wounds,
Healing Scars.
All that remains,
is so much
You can make me whole.
You can make me Yours.

You made me,
You made one for me.
Remembering all I have been taught,
all I have done.
Not knowing the future.

Shall I give up on my dreams?
Shall I give up on dreaming?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An old poem I wrote, I found it recently in a box next to a thing I wrote to say at my father's funeral.

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