I walked behind him, and it feels
Like something too common to be
Called crass, cruel, in that he
Never bothers to look to watch me
Come, and I have perhaps walked
This road too long, and sometimes
I call his name, but still he
Doesn't bother, like a whisper
Of faith disguised as wind among
The leaves of fallen trees, something
Perhaps that he fears, I have walked
Behind my father, and learnt the planes
The angles of his back, but his face,
His laugh, his voice, are absent from
The scenery of my mind, I have walked
This road too long, I can now confess,
So I paused, and turned my back, perhaps
For better climes, and then I heard
Him call, but as I heard that voice,
I swear it's odd, his voice is like
A stranger to me, a whisper disguised
As a gentle breeze disturbing the
Leaves of fallen trees, something to
Ignore.
A contest entry
- Guaranteed Comments! II by Nam.
1750 points, ended June 8, 122 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I once had a dream when I was a child (had the same one several times) that I was in this huge crowd, and that I saw my father in the distance, and as he approached me he didn't know who I was, as if he wasn't my actual father. I think it was my way of reacting to loss if I ever would lose him more so than that someone else could be my father, or something like that.
A nice poem that you have written here.
-Nam
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