Thursday, June 23, 2022


 My Son

When a young dad says my son

He means it mostly in the possessive

Self enhancing sense:

Fruit of my loins!

Continuation of my name!

            unbroken chain

Bombastic bellow of the man in full

Just before a predictable fall:

Behold my boy!

But the older dad whispers

It with a whiff of apologetic 

Ruefulness.  It’s not solely your fault,

my son, for all the errors of your life.

Why should shame and regret 

Alone be borne by you

Many of them belong to me 

And are mine to be borne too.  


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