Papa

In a corner lay a stone,

wind and snow and rain may come,

full of pressure and terror

the manor still stood the tides of weathers

In a room glowed a light,

metamorphosised pests attracted to its glow,

he hangs there, giving and loving

until the fuse may blow

In a church stood a priest

believers may turn away,

where the devil may rampage,

but he stays there, with his beliefs

unfalteringly and blindly loving

In a home resided Papa,

with a burly shaped demeanour

laid a false facade

but a core of molten liquified

unrelenting undeterred love.

Jerome Tan