VII

A week of letters end with one of the people
who started it all.

He isn't the most understanding at times,
sometimes he's hard to live with,
hard to understand.

But he was always there.
Even if he stood wordless,
he was there.

Never perfect, usually far from it,
but I couldn't be prouder
and more grateful than I can
to have someone at least willing to try.

I know I must frustrate you,
I know it must be exceedingly hard.
But you try and I appreciate that
because to me someone who tries means more
than all the jewels in the world.

You aren't perfect,
but you're awe-inspiring.

I know its frustrating,
dealing with someone who has as many problems as I do.
And trying to understand the crazy,
that magnates my way
but I'm relieved there is always someone
waiting to at least listen
and offer a hand.

The final piece to my precious family,
a man who is imperfect,
has made millions of mistakes,
but still manages to brighten my darkest days.

Thank you,
to all seven days, all seven letters,
all seven people
that I wish I can give the whole world to.

-Lysa