My Father, My Friend

I sit in my room with my pencil in hand
Waiting for you to come home once again
My friend, my father, you're everything to me
Please come home safely, cause it's where you need to be

I see you once a month, or wen I ger the chance
With that amount af time, I feel like I'm in a trance
Though it hurts pretty bad to see you go so very soon
I know of a few things that can help pull me through

I listen to "My Little Girl," the song by Tim McGraw
It's the one that gives you goosebumps most of all
I take after you by trying to draw as best I can
But I can't seem to even draw, in detail, a pan

I talk about you around all my friends at school
About how you're funny, smart, sweet, and cool
And I know you tell your new friends on the road
Stories about your family and how you wish you were home

I know you don't mean to be so far away
You can't really help it, drivingon day by day
Delivering things, such as tv's, radios, pans, and pots
All the while knowing that we each miss you lots

I still sit in my room with my pencil in hand
Writing this poem that's been stuck in my head
Just let them all know, your new founded friends
I'll be waiting for you, my father, my friend