PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Long ago,and far away,
I phantom my father,

Standing by the bay,
Watching the Heathers,

Blowing in the breeze,
Giving my mother,the
sweetest squeeze.

Telling her in his
gentle way,
We'll name our baby,
Heather someday.
When from his homeland,
He was forced to go.
Plodding, thru unknown
snow.
Always willing to take  
a chance,
Never afraid of a new
dance.
Looking this way, he could
see,
Opportunities for my brothers,
and me.

(c) copyright heather burns