Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • My father Michael Buttaci passed away 25 years ago. Today is his birthday. I offer you this poem in honor and remembrance of
    a wonderful man.




    I saved my father in a book,
    wrote his marrow and his bones
    on blue-veined lines
    and delighted how he walked
    through the stanzas of my poems.

    I saved him in a book,
    traded sorrow for sweet songs
    sung in happier times
    and recited all his wisdom
    inside the pages of these poems.

    I lured my father to this book,
    enticed the fellow from his stone
    with magic rhymes
    inviting him to stay
    in the shelter of these lines.

    I saved him in a book
    in the comfort of these poems
    in the heartbeat of my verse
    in the cadence of these words
    in his dance across the pages
    where he lives forever ageless
    I saved my Papa in this book

    #
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.