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User Rating:
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8.5
/10
(8 votes)
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My father is a stranger to me
He never turns-up uninvited
Sitting cautiously on the sofa
Genteel.
He waits - never asks
for a mug of tea.
My father hasn't always been
This stranger in my life
We were close, once
He organised my life, an official referee
Strict.
He holds my gaze, unsure
if he loves me…
Ben Barton
| Submitted Date |
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Monday, July 11, 2005 |
| Submitted Date |
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Monday, July 11, 2005 |
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Comments about this poem (Commandment No.5
by
Ben Barton
) |
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Anna Russell (12/27/2006 8:16:00 AM)
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This one really struck a chord with me (classic daddy issues!) . Well written with no wasted words. But Ben, he does love you, I'd put money on it.
Hugs
Anna xxx
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Ernestine Northover (6/10/2006 12:47:00 PM)
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Maybe you have to make all the moves Ben. Sometimes age takes you out of the familiar and puts you into future time which isn't compatible with your known existence. One must make allowances I'm afraid. We all grow old in time. Good write here. Love Ernestine XXX
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Linda Preston (7/18/2005 12:56:00 PM)
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Some interesting thoughts here, Ben.
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