His Father's Eyes
By Silver Spun Sand
Tue, 17 Feb 2015
- 4333 reads
14 comments
Through half-closed blinds,
shards of light pierce stuccoed walls,
inciting them bear witness to the end
of this long night’s journey into dawn;
a crumpled fist, defiantly curled.
So soundly asleep; lays her cheek
next to his, so soon bruised by the world.
A tap drips in the sink – thrums a largo beat;
in the stove, yesterday’s coals grow cold.
He stirs...wakes; takes a stab at life – yelling
at the top of his lungs,
and I pray to God no child of his will gaze
upon a faded, army photo – have a mother say,
‘That man was your dad; you have his eyes,’
as if some kind of compensation, when
there is none, for me, at least.
Agreed, son?
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Comments
A myriad of stories beneath
Permalink Submitted by Philip Sidney on
A myriad of stories beneath the surface, sad and intriguing.
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Touching piece of work. A
Permalink Submitted by tibi popovici on
Touching piece of work. A drama scene very well written.
Tiberiu
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A powerful read Tina. Jenny.
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
A powerful read Tina.
Jenny.
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1 User voted this as great feedback
I would never have through to
Permalink Submitted by london_calling79 on
I would never have thought to move so swiftly from the cheek to the tap but it does add a needed echo: a heartbeat.
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1 User voted this as great feedback
Very good - one of your best,
Very good - one of your best, I think. Says all sorts of things in so little time.
Rob
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