BEST MEMORIES OF A FATHER
He shouted loud, yet his gaze spoke of kindness,
his raised hand trembled with a strange softness.
Words as hard as stone, silences made of gold,
he scolded with love, in a temper controlled.
He entered like shadow, quiet and discreet,
yet each of his gestures lit up our dark streets.
A lone king dwelling in his closed-off domain,
but always there when we needed to explain.
He seldom spoke unless the world shook apart,
then his deep voice gently steadied our heart.
Far from us often, yet always aware,
cold as a rock, but warm like a prayer.
His love came not through soft caressing hands,
but in fleeting glances one slowly understands.
A strictness wrapped in invisible grace,
of those who love hard, but don’t say it to your face.
We saw him cry though no tears ever showed,
and laugh with one eye while the other imploded.
Best memories? The ones that used to sting,
now echo like crowns, like songs we still sing.
RASAMINDRAKOTROKA Andry Tiana
May 30, 2025
Date de dernière mise à jour : Lun 02 juin 2025
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