Pack Rat Poem by Caroline Guedes

Sometimes I have to wonder Father
If I really am your daughter
There is little we have in common
I know you treat me like a son

You keep many collections
Of silly, worthless possesions
and yet you treat them like gold
Was I once a child so easily sold?

You tell me they're for your future grandchild
I have to sit and contemplate a smile
For I can picture how he or she would enjoy
the plethora of dolls, gumball machines and toys

I love when you look at me and say
this will all be worth thousands someday
But all I dare to see, frankly, is a big mess
The collections you have can be hideous, I confess

Yet I love the way you're so sincere
How you beam at it's growth each year
I know you know you're a pack rat
But it's just one more thing to love about you Dad