Her Dad Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

She had, reluctantly
gone on to Neverland,
where no one lived
and one could neither feel
nor hear the pain.
And where the scalpel rules
to do its dirty deed
in peace and secrecy.

The gods allowed
and she came back
her sight unveiled
the smiling thanks
of that one soul
worth seeing then.

He grinned,
a sheepish grin
which metamorphed
into a broad,
and so familiar smile.

The voice of incongruity
pronounced the words
that stayed with her,
'twas something about booze,
he loved her slurring, though.