Father

Father, your back is turned, immersed in work deadlines. Briefcase journeys take you away, paper trails proceeding to lead further from home. Father, this picture hangs, secured by two magnets: your hand in mine, showing me life. Cocooned caterpillar learns to fly, but returns. Father, I met a man with hands as strong as yours: certificate signed, clothes unpacked. Eyes computer immersed, his back is turned from me. Father, my name has changed, though I wanted yours back. Recessively, your name resides in genuine smiles though woes, faithfulness, and hope. Father, your name remains, untampered by distance, though fading with stone's weathering. My son lays down lilacs and I lay down my tears. 6-6-2021 Heptastich Poetry Contest N/A Sponsor: William Kekaula