Achan.

Little dewdrops lazy on leaves.

Mist from the treetop slowly sieves.

Under the peach tree there was a spot

Where we spent mornings cool and hot.

He would come and drop me each day.

The STCS school bus never would overstay.

He always spoke in tales to amaze me.

Creativity at fingertips; O what a dad was he!

Seldom did I believe when mom said he rocks.

Till his intelligence gave me the shocks.

His talk, the walk and looks are priceless.

He even scolds in style leaving me speechless.

Whoever created the Raymond punch line

Is sure to have done it for him, the pristine.

My father, the die hard perfectionist. Always so fine.

I won’t forget to thank God he made you mine.