
There was a wound near the ear
That never healed. Each evening
I would change the dressing
The blood never stopped its flow.
He would not wince, even
As I applied disinfectant trying
To be as gentle as possible,
As softly and as far as I could go.
His eyes glistened with pain and tears
That never fell. And I note with pride
That this is my father,
And fighting still.
Clouds billow like an open wound
In the changing times. Each evening
I watch the skies over the house
Sometimes azure, sometimes grey.
No one talks about the bleeding lines
That no one can see, but me
That young girl swallowing tears
While keeping vigil each day.
When eyes glisten with pain and tears
Threaten to fall. I call out with pride
That I am his daughter
And fighting still.
Very deep. Great flow. Good work!
~Operation Awesome team
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