My Father

He was a crowded man because within
he sheltered those he had to live without
because murder and red ravage of war
had stolen them away not to return

he did not dare to open up his door
for fear the ones he loved would fly away
as spirits are wont to do not confined
as a small boy I stood, my small fist knocked

I heard something like a stirring inside 
as I grew I stood and I knocked more
as I heard a heartbeat through wooden door
but before he died the key of love unlocked

a tender and lively and lonely man
who gazed on me wondrous apology