Deep down in those plain pockets of a worn out shirt that once held cigarettes Pockets bulging with self-interest soon gave way to his kids pencils, pens n crayons The trousers that were all along stitched with wealthy ambitions were now held together with the wealth of fatherly experience A new found love for his five kids kept us sheltered with parental love and healthy sibling rivalry. A different kinda father emerged from the cocoon of honestly and discipline. A father who refused to be a friend, preferring to remain a strict disciplinarian. Dad was a concoction of love and fear and we could smell them all in his shirts n trousers The cigarette may have been snuffed out but the smoke still lingers. When I close my eyes and think of my father, I see my father's blue and white striped half shirt and his Raymond trousers, both stitched by the local darzi. His face comes afterwards. He wore them like faith, they wore him off like doubt. Write a poem for your fathers with shirts and trousers as metaphors or how you associate your father's character and memories with them. Start with the words- Deep down in those plain pockets... #shirtsntrousersyqp #fathersdayyqparentnaama #fathersday #YourQuoteAndMine
