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Array
(
[sid] => 161624
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => My father
[time] => 2010-08-04 22:12:49
[hometext] => This poem describes my troubled relationship with my father.
[bodytext] => Hand in hand we walked, while leaves crunched under my feet. A big and strong hand was yours wrapped around my tiny chubby fingers. Church bells rang, and birds were singing, Early Sunday mornings were all we ever really had. When the weekend was at it's end I would cry before you even dropped me off, and every time it stayed the same. "don't cry baby, I promise I will be back next weekend." I waited and waited by window sills for you, baggs packed and nowhere to go. Sometimes the first man to break a little girls heart is her own Father. Still with open arms I always take you back, because the minute you pull up in your classic caddy with leather seats and music blasting I know that noone in the world could replace the way you make me feel when Im with you. A free spirit you were, always my only escape, only you could make me laugh so hard, and cook the best meat balls with raisins. I always cherished my weekends with you each time like it would be my last, and always carry this chip on my shoulder. There were always those dark times when I was scared and all alone just a little girl who's daddy walked out on her again, sometimes for years at a time. Call me a fool but at 23 years old I still let it get to me when your a no show. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 140 [topic] => 48 [informant] => Daniellemarie [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 12 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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