For her dad; too little, too late

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by theleastofthese, Sep 29, 2006.

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  1. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    I never asked you to be her dad.
    I only wanted a sperm donor
    because I couldn't do it by myself.
    In retrospect, I suppose
    that was selfish of me.
    I never introduced you to her
    or even said she might be yours.
    I didn't want to share my parenthood
    with anyone.

    She only asked about you a few times
    when she was older - after you were gone.
    I told her that you were "troubled" -
    a pallid euphemism for your illness.
    I told her I'd never seen you
    in your worst moods and moments.
    I told her I'd never planned to share her
    with anyone else,
    not even the one who brought her into being.

    I remember when I heard the news:
    you'd gone to the next county
    and hooked up a hose to the exhaust pipe.
    How could you stand it??
    I tried that once and it was so awful
    I had to stop.

    I told your brother about her once long ago.
    I saw him at an informal gathering of friends
    and casually introduced him to her.
    Now she's grown and has a family
    of her own;
    a husband and a little boy.
    I've never seen your baby pictures
    so I don't know if my grandson
    looks anything like you.

    I do know that he's beautiful
    and bright
    and funny,
    and curious about everything.
    And I wonder now if I did the wrong thing
    in not telling you
    about her;
    your daughter
    that you never knew.

    I'm sorry now,
    but it's too late.

    Last edited by a moderator: Sep 30, 2006
  2. ~CazzaAngel~

    ~CazzaAngel~ Staff Alumni

    I'm lost, is that a real story about you and your ex? it's a great poem..I am just curious now :)



  3. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    Yes, it's a real story about real people.

  4. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

    i love it. i favor poems that manage to tell a coherent story while holding to a poetic feeling. I'm sorry for the pain though.
  5. That's quite a scrapbook - of not only regrets, but awarness and acknowledgement. A fine package of thoughts and words - I wish you peace...

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