The Watkins Man

“He’s the black sheep of our family,”
Said Father speaking of his son
Before him to the Watkins man
Who no doubt forgot it
Before his next customer.

Father liked the line
Repeated it to his son’s favorite uncle,
His mother and a few friends.
Their laughter stung.

Still none seemed to remember.
Father got bored—dropped the line.
Twenty years later denied 
He’d said it.

The son, poor fellow, never forgot—
Told me the story as he expired.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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