|
A TARNISHED PICTURE FRAME
He remembers the day the curtains moved
and the little face peeked through,
hands splayed upon the windowpane,
loving him the way only innocents do.
He should have turned back, held her in his arms,
kissed away her fears as only a father could.
Instead the demon of selfishness consumed his soul,
lust his lure, promiscuity his occupation.
Now wasting away in his homemade grave,
loneliness his friend, memories his companion.
Weathered face impaled with drunken eyes,
balding head with auburn ponytail speaks of times gone by.
He stares at the little portrait, old and worn, gracing his night table.
Runs his gnarled fingers lovingly along the forlorn frame,
faded colors and muted tones speak eloquently of its age.
Saucy smile and eyes of blue stare back, quietly mocking him.
His weary old body betrays him; tears of regret and pain flow freely.
Leaving him alone, haunted by all he had forsaken.
Before the twilight of life claims him, he wishes, just once,
to hear her husky voice call him "Daddy."
|
|
