Transcendental Sonnet #873:
"Thank You for Being My Father"

I found this dusty piece of paper "trash"
I thought like that which by the truckload has
Been hauled away the rubble and the ash
Of five generations of what once was

But something of it caught my jaded eye
"Thank you for being my father" it said
Typed on a typewriter from the Great War
Which belonged to Grandma and it was for
Me you see and I cannot help but cry
It was not trash it was meaning instead

Teddy my son you who typed me those words
On behalf of your siblings my three birds
Of paradise rise like the phoenix now
And make some sense of all of this somehow

*~ ( + ) ~*

+Steven Curtis Lance

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