Rosalind Shavers Poet I do not know?

My Father

I spoke to my father and it was such a shame.
I never saw his face,
I barely knew his name.

I carry his features, so they say,
"You look like him and speak like him
in such a way."

I spoke to my father
and my heart began to bleed
because his love I so longed for,
his advice I did need.

I needed his strong voice when I was a child.
I needed his encouragement,
if only for a while.

I say "needed" because now, I am grown,
I am a mother and I have children of my own.

His life has been lived
and it is slowly seeping away.

Today, I spoke to my father,
yet I needed him yesterday.

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