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In The End

You are the father of my son
And when all is said and done
You were not the only one
But I will have to say I loved you.

Not a kind or tender love
But the sort of love that stays
Through the many nights and days
Through the sickness and the ways
Of your long dying.
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COMMENTS
Bernard Henrie 08 March 2008
Bea-such a wise, such a sad and mature poem; how rare to see a child introduced into the love knot, how rare to see aging; how rare and yet very satisfying to find a poem working through the stages that so often compose a life, if we are fortunate and loving enough to experience a long life. bernie
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