Memorial Day.

"Beloved Husband And Father."
That is all the granite knows....
It displays his birth and death dates,
and that is all it has to show.

The illusion is; his spirit stays,
like it's stuck inside the rock.
People annually take their pictures,
put fake roses on the spot.

Somewhere 6 feet down,
lays a man I call my Daddy.
He's rested there for 12 years now,
beginning 3 years after he had me.

The masses move to see their dead,
like the spot in the ground fills the empty space.
I wish I could go along with the crowd,
but that rock is just a reminder of what I can't replace.

Heat fills my eyes,
chased down by salt water....
I feel nothing for his plaque,
but I am his only daughter.

Does no one else realize
I don't want these memories?
To me, he was no granite stone....
In the back of my mind, he breathes.