Lay he sick, fragile as a feather,
Guilty thoughts eating his mind.
His eyes were set in a long stare,
Pondering how sick he was.
Gave no respect, confining her with no rights,
Miserable was she, but never once quit.
Turned to his daughter and whispered,
‘I must apologize to her’.
Continued silently with guilty tears,
She saved me once, yet I din’t care.
Was a friend, philosopher and guide,
An angel in disguise for sure.
What a fool to crush her feathers,
Broken was she, yet a great mother!