Father. A poem.

I remember my father,

as he is

now
and
then,

anchored to that
fading chair

with

fading hairline
and
fading eyes,

the absence of smoke

from

unfiltered
cigarettes,

not so heavy in the air.
Less the cough

from

tar-filled lungs
and
asbestos alveoli.

Finger in ear,
a book his constant

companion,

weary
and
weather-worn,

the walls echo

with

odd angry shots
and amnesiac spite.

I love my father,
even if he is

only

half the man
he
used
to
be.

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry, available at most online book sellers. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

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