Sunday, January 14, 2018

Son





















somewhere
he waits
and I listen,
as the silence
grows painfully louder;
son;
I wish I could tell you
that you’re mine
but you’re not
and never were,
still
there is that bond,
and I guess
that is the way
it will always be;
son;
I wish I could show you
the beauty of your
shining sisters smiles,
I imagine
you must be
very much like they are
except they are mine
and you are not, and never
will be;
son;
I make no excuses
for the things
that took place
and I wouldn’t have any
even if I did,
to be honest
it didn’t have a thing
to do with you
as hollow as that may sound,
it’s just the way
things worked out,
but still I remember,
which is more
than I left to you.
.

.

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