Grown Apart Poem by ben zak

Every Tuesday and Thursday I ride in car
I go to a place of a sugary sweet smell;
a bakery
As I see rows and rows of pastries
My Dad and I get the usual;
Six Boston creams and an ice coffee a piece
As I sit down at the table
The table is as bright as a tropical bird
As my Dad and I sit down
I bite in to my donut
It was a leather shoe
But then I realize he wasn’t there
It was just my brother
I realized my Dad and I had grown apart