Always Room for Presence
When I was young
Growing older yet young
Thirty years more or less
Though respect supercedes
so was my dad
from marbles, to mitts, to mistakes
he broke a window with a baseball
....me, I hit mine with a pellet.
memories, morals and values
absord our DNA
leads him to paternalism
....makes me smoke pot.
keeps me guessing and guessing
why the difference in strengths
and weaknesses
is as frightening real as a poem
held hostage to the maker
but rendered to the reader.
any relationship
on Father�s Day
there is always room for presence.