It did not make him happy
To remember his father
Even though
He had forgiven everything
There was something
Too unfortunate
To play it all out again
Something lost and found
At the same time
Something too slippery
To hold onto
For too long
So he took another drink
Of the tall whiskey
And wrote about something else
That was still
His father
To remember his father
Even though
He had forgiven everything
There was something
Too unfortunate
To play it all out again
Something lost and found
At the same time
Something too slippery
To hold onto
For too long
So he took another drink
Of the tall whiskey
And wrote about something else
That was still
His father
John works as a clinical social worker and is the president of a national disability management company. He holds degrees in Social Work, Psychology, and Rehabilitation Services and has studied philosophy extensively. He is an avid traveler and a long-term student of the martial arts holding a 3rd degree black-belt in Kempo Karate. His diverse educational and experiential background gives him a broad base from which to approach many topics in his poetry. John currently lives with his wife and two children in Caledon, Ontario, Canada.
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Brilliant....that was still his father. You just psychoanalised all my poems post my mother's death in your short poem.
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