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Last December 13 night monster knocked at our door
To give me sorrow and a deadly body blow
It took away the precious life of my dear dad
Causing a heartache, making me sorrowful and sad
Sunday Observer was his famous hunting ground
As many of his fine short stories were frequently found
I’ll really miss his wonderful contributions in the weekly
And relate my tale of woe to all very mournfully
For the name A. F. Dawood no more would appear
Although I know as mortal beings one day we’re to disappear
I’ll try to keep his name intact with my humble tribute
Feeling forlorn and sad as dad isn’t there to contribute
He etched his name with his excellent creative fiction
Enriched with suspense, climax, dialogues and fine diction
These gems were really dad’s the great treasure
That gave the readers a Sunday morning reading pleasure.
A voracious reader, deep thinker, had a penchant for teaching
Satisfied his pupils so much that parents came to him searching
His treasure trove of knowledge kept him in good stead
To impart and instruct his charges to be always ahead
My lecturers asked me who this person was writing in the weekly
I said he was my beloved dad proudly and unhesitatingly
And gosh! I felt very happy when they lavished praise
Tears in my eyes, I said his name no more the weekly will embrace
Placed in this pitiful plight, as a daughter I’m duty-bound
To write a tribute, expressing my sorrow, so profound
In June 2014, my dad released a book containing his anthology
But in December 2015, death visited him; what a tragedy?
Dad’s death left a deep wound in my heart
I’ve to bear the agony until the time comes for me to depart
Now, let me take my leave of you, my affable dad
And if tribute appears, I’m sure you’ll be glad.

Afma Dawood