Matthew Scott Harris Born January 13th, 1959
Thank ye immensely devoted sister Shari
for availing Shana Aubrey
an expansive plethora of blessedly
extravagant opportunities wherein her anatomical
fist-sized noggin i.e. grey matter sponging up -
less doable from me
the biological father, who validates
your doting, helping, kickstarting,
et cetera I clamor to see!
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Matthew Scott Harris Born January 13th, 1959
I shake my shaggy hirsute hair in utter disbelief,
when the cocked arrow
begat thine conception,
when meal ate mum and octogenarian papa
expected their second offspring and only son,
what now seems to be a stepped-up pace,
where father time didst affix another candle to blow
where the passage of life now measured
in swiftly tailored decades denoting another birthday,
when in the blink of an eye,
I vividly recall crow
wing like a Lil whippersnapper of a boy
leisurely playing monopoly for make-believe dough...
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nothing ranks as the greatest gift since being a father
twenty-one years ago then bearing witness to grow
increasing autonomy
of my two precious daughters
whereby each will become master
of their domain, and meet a loving beau
(actually thy eldest dates
a delightful young man from Puerto Re Coe),
whom intuition discerns would be
a near perfect match –
and this papa intuits dough nuts to dollars –
that such an em man hint gentle, humble,
intelligent lad – doth hoe
pa fully become the future groom
of said firstborn, (which outcome I know
wing couched in a couple of poems
sent his way, and no doubt his smarts lo'
and behold revealed the slightly obscure wish),
where love doth most obviously abound mo'
then prevailed between myself and bride o'
mine these last deuce score plus (21+) years,
but now this Poe
whit aspires to recognize the worthiness of she,
whose chose thyself as a lifetime
groom cuz peaceful status quo
avoiding animosity as thyself and spouse
gently row merrily...merrily...merrily
our once quite rickety craft
which oft times in the past needed a tow
off the craggy shoals of constant woe.