For Mikhail
Sometimes only to myself I wonder why
I permitted you to go that day
You seemed to know then better than I
I cannot shake the thought like a tree
I cannot make the leaves of memory dry
Deep roots are here, burried in the clay
Of feelings, fossils of my pain
The loss - that we shall never run again
Along the street and laugh until they see
But cannot tell what separates a father
From a child. How smart you were, how
Brave to go, knowing it was the end
But I sometimes from sleep cry out
Where the blood stain carpet plagues doubt
A father's heart broken must never mend
Mikhail, Mikhail, Mikhail, why did I not see
I could have hidden you from the tragedy.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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