Question

Poem at Thirty Nine

How I miss my father,
I wish he had not been
so tired
when I was
born
Writing deposit slips and cheques
I think of him
He taught me how.
This is the form,
he must have said:
the way it is done.
I learned to see
bits of paper
As a way
to escape
the life he knew
and even in high school
had a savings
account
He taught me
that telling the truth
did not always mean
a beating;
though many of my truths
must have grieved him


This poem
2)what lesson did her father give her on telling truth?​

Answer 1

That telling truth is always good.