To Pater

January isn't all too winter for me.
It’s the coming of spring to me;
No, it’s the spring unto itself.

His blooming in the month
Made it all the warm,
Ever thawing out the waters of joy.

His pater love has been so nourishing
That he made this sapling a tree
That vies to reach and branch out to light.

How I wish my filial love suffice
To bear fruits to this gardener of mine,
Who's been tilling the soil so well.

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