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Knock, Knock

By Daniel Beaty

As a boy I shared a game with my father.
Played it every morning ’til I was 3.
He would knock knock on my door,
and I’d pretend to be asleep
’til he got right next to the bed,
Then I would get up and jump into his arms.
“Good morning, Papa.”
And my papa he would tell me that he loved me.
We shared a game.
Knock Knock