Dad, don’t you know I’ve gotten
so big since you last saw me
that I’m in high school now, so stop
sending me Barbies for Christmas.
Dad, don’t you know that I’ve changed
my mind about being a doctor,
that my place is up on the stage, not in
the surgery room with its quiet light.
Dad, don’t you know that I’ve accomplished
so much, jumped so many hurdles,
faced so many fears that I’m so
proud of myself. I hope somehow
I’ve made you proud, too.
By Jennifer, 9th grade
[photo by la plume et le vent via flickr]
Advertisement
Comments
I enjoyed reading your poem. Thanks for sharing.