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QuillOak

Lyric Poem · Poems About Dad

The Sound of Childhood

by The QuillOak Editors

We groaned at every pun you made,

we begged you, "Dad, please stop";

you'd grin and double down, of course —

"Hi, Hungry. I'm your Pop."

But here's the secret, now we're grown,

that none of us would trade:

the sound of childhood, looking back,

is laughter you had made.

Original poem © QuillOak — free for personal use.

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