Sunday, April 19, 2015

Passing the Buck

The less of me that
comes to be, the more
I see my great faults.

However vague, each
from my ignorance
begs my remembrance.

I cannot say I 
was but unaware,
least I knew better.

Take the time that plagues
the most, when I hurt 
my father’s feelings.

He’d borrowed from me
some money that I
asked him to repay.

The sum I did not 
need, I just had to
set right the ledger.

So he took from his
wallet the money
and threw it at me.

It was the only 
time my dad and I
had a falling out.

I had insisted, 
he had resisted —
we both well knew why.

Mom, the love of my Dad’s life had just died.

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