Dear Dad...

Dear Dad..

You're like a broken advice vending machine

All advice is free and it's always a two for one offer sometimes even three

And some days I take those offers as soon as possible, I mean they are free

On other days it's like patching a hole that can't be seen

At least you put a disclaimer, caution may cause teenage irritation

But each one is made with love with a pinch of aggravation

A love that no matter how angry I get,  you keep on going without fail

You never put up a please insert two cents, wait in line

Or a closed for repairs sign

You always remain the perfect little broken vending machine

And before you think Im calling you old or broken let me stop you right there

You still dance around our kitchen wildly as if it were some dare

And you still have jumping contests in the pool, even when Im seventeen

Sure your little girl may not make mud pies as much or shuffle in the house with scraped knees

But she will make you a real pie, just to show off her expertise

And she will shuffle in the house to vent about how terrible math is then, beg for help

I know the thought of me growing up may make you want to hurl

But I will always be your little Girl


This poem is about: 
My family


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