My father wakes me gently It’s early. Too early to even call it a morning “Get dressed” he whispers as the day's events seep back into my mind We drive for what seems like hours to stop and have breakfast as the sun rises Eggs that look like big yellow clouds and chocolate milk that’s colder than snow.
My Father
My Father
My Father
My father wakes me gently It’s early. Too early to even call it a morning “Get dressed” he whispers as the day's events seep back into my mind We drive for what seems like hours to stop and have breakfast as the sun rises Eggs that look like big yellow clouds and chocolate milk that’s colder than snow.