Old Boxes
Years have come and gone.
I have forgotten who I am.
Every once a photo of you reminds me.
Lucky I should be, only to feel a undaunted hurt.
It’s a imprint on my walls or my bookshelf.
As I glance at you, black and white fading away.
Happy you seen, are you somewhere where the angels can hear.
Do you ever wonder how much I miss you?
I keep finding stuff that belongs to you, telling me about a unfinished past I will never
hear.
Never realizing you were more than just a dad.
A boy, a man.
Old boxes of lost loves and photos no one knows.
It’s as if I’m losing my memory.
A mixture of a dad I knew to a stranger before who became you.
Time goes on, and the little girl grows ups, starts a family.
She tells stories of a father she barely knew.
Losing you toke a piece of me, that never grows back.
Now finding this untold past makes me feel as everything was nothing.
I know nothing now, just time flying by.
I am left with disappointment of pushing you away.
Realizing our mistakes.
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