#1755-Old stories

When he was alive,

Dad had a curious way,

To self-describe.

I’m like mustard, he’d say.

A little is tasty; more burns.

It’s taken a while,

But now I can relate.

If today I could,

I’d tell him about me.

Dad, I’m like coffee.

Bitter, acidic, dark.

Thank goodness for milk,

Sugar, and hearts.