My own not quite father
Has been the same man for three decades
Even after ‘we both shall live’
But I used to explain the mistake
When people told me how alike we looked
Since even though it might have been so
In some parallel universe, in this one,
His wasn’t the face my mother saw first
I assumed people were unobservant
My color, far darker than his or my mother’s
My shape, too like hers to imagine any of him in it
Even our names, if truly heard,
Could clearly have revealed our not hidden un-secret
Too lazy was my verdict
They failed to think of seeing
What was clearly in our faces
Now I have my own not quite son
Who will be the same
Long after ‘we both shall live’
Regarding us, no one would make the same mistake
Enabled by laziness and being a not quite son
For more than three decades
Somehow though, I’m not bothered anymore
Since fathers are more than faces
© Gayle Force Press 2008
I’m behind in my blog reading, so I just read this entry. It’s lovely! Thanks for sharing it.
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