Dad e-mails me a poem:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Never forget
That I love you!
There was a time when
I would have sent back
a snippy reply.
Or no reply at all.
I’m a nicer me now.
A gentler one.
A me who thinks that
maybe Dad is worried
or sad
or confused.
I type:
Sugar is sweet,
Peppers are hot.
Thank you, Dad,
That means a lot.
And then
I hit
“Send.”