Was it you I cried for,
The talk about the birds and the bees?
When were you proud of your little boy?
When could I put my arm on your shoulder?
Just be friends, pals, buddies?
And why does ice that smothers my heart
Drip tears that long to feel a father's joy?
And mirrors on every wall
I see myself at every turn
No distractions, no photos,
No one left to call
Like the one who went before me
You held my hand enough
To pull me down the path you walked
Always walking ahead,
Afraid if I looked in your eyes, I'd see,
You weren't so tough
As my hand slipped from your hand
At that point in time and from then on
I knew I had to be a man
When I laid you in the ground
At last able to touch you and not fear it
I buried the boy who wanted so much to be loved
But was so afraid to ever hear it
Reach up with your black, crusty hands
I woke in the night gasping for air
Was it your voice I heard?
Terrible icy stares
I need to cry out to God Almighty
But mumbled a word
February 10, 2001
Copyright ©2001 Michael Paul