Man of the house
acting wounded, growing small
petting your grief
with hard swift strokes
as your son
prances in the grass
searching for recognition
he'll never find
on our lawn
strewn with dandelions
i mean,
weeds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's sad when kids are ignored by their preoccupied dad's. Very heartfelt poem. Sincerely, Connie Webb