My dad was a drunk, A preacher by choice He spoke the word of God And then when life kicked Him in the gut, Found solace in a bottle. He wasn’t a bad man. He cared about others, Spent time with the sick, Counseled the troubled, Liked by most everyone, Except my Mom’s parents. He laughed a lot with his mouth But seldom with his eyes, Afraid of the things inside He would numb the fear With prayer and alcohol When it grew too large He and I didn’t get on well. He tried to believe in god, I tried to believe in me. Ron Travis
Reason for writing:
Written in reflection. My father and I were not close and his death of 3 yrs ago, left me with the need to understand and at least attempt to put into words who I saw him as.
Birth sign: Not entered
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