He sits and thinks. He hears beyond all sound
The music being penned into the score.
The writer, although planted on the ground,
Makes music that will gently float and soar.
He sits and thinks. He ponders with his prose
The words of Jung and Freud, and others such.
The man who learns psychology, he knows
How much it means to see and hear and touch.
He stands and laughs. He knows just what to say,
And with a joke he entertains his crowd.
Like Seinfeld, Woody Allen, Tina Fey,
His open soul is joyous, bright, and loud.
A teacher, writer, artist he may be,
But father is his lasting role for me.