Dear Dad

• Bridget Golder, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2018

Clean sheets with a speck of dust,
White reflection with the sun.
Rays above me as I moved,
Finishing my first task of the day.
The phone ringing,
Breaking my silence.
A stumbling mother,
I try to ignore
Bad news on the phone,
Tear drops finding a path on my cheeks.
I should have lived with you,
Mother can’t stay sober.
Cycling into a distant thought,
You were the only one who kept me sane.
Getting undressed in my space,
Getting dressed in new lace.