Monday, September 07, 2009

For a father, from a son.

The sun so sweet warms his face.
He closes his eyes
and for an instant he is somehow older, wiser, content,
and there is no change, he is the same.

Skin rich, hued and browned.
Like his, but more weathered by the storms of time.
The comfort of a skin well worn,
like a favourite armchair into which you sink at the hard days end.

His aftershave, mixed with years of toil, hardship,tribulation
and fun, laughter and love.

A face lined by the grief that having loved deeply only brings,
and by the truest of smiles.
A smile unashamed, a smile uncoerced.

He drew him from solid earth to subtle form,
from nurtured youth softly born.
To a man with the sun, so sweet, so warm, on leathered face.
Weathered - years of toil
and love unbounded.

A man stands, lining a face with smiles, and faces the sun that warms his fathers face
as his fathers love warms his heart.

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