Father and Child
Today—through windows of the coffee shop
I see a father and his child. They stop
There at the light and wait for green. Then walk
Across the street in smiles. And as they talk,
I see—though cannot hear—affection’s tone.
I sit here with my drink and books. Alone.
And feel a sweeping sadness—perfect pain—
As I now realize that not again
Will I walk hand in hand across the street,
While laughing with my little son, whose feet
Must hurry to keep pace with mine. I slow,
Of course. Accommodate. Because I know
He's absolutely fixed on keeping pace
With Dad. Determination lights his face.
We reach the safety of the other side.
He gently pulls his hand from mine ...
Today. That father and his child. These days
They share are evanescent. Nothing stays—
Not gold, as Frost reports. Nor dross. All goes.
I wonder if that laughing father knows
His child will drop his hand—his grip go slack.
She’ll walk ahead—perhaps not glancing back.
So I went sailing with my pa,
Who got so sick from pitch and yaw.
2. … and Dumber
“Yaw goin’ to the game?” he cried.
I said, “No way!”—I kinda lied.
Shakespeare Couplet: A Midsummer Night’s Dream (44)
The others, wondering where Bottom’s been,Are thrilled to see him—ass-less—once again. (4.2)