Friday, September 25, 2009

Diminishing Returns

I lay in bed and cry tonight
I fear I'll not see you again.
The shades are drawn; a little light
creeps in beneath the door. I've been
wondering how long this pain will last.

Love is such an abused word;
too often confused with lust or desire
or romance or something else absurd.
But nothing compares with possession-fire
of father-love: a diminished ferocity.

I have to learn this terse new tongue
of letting go and giving way;
to let the young remain the young
while I grow old too soon. The day
has come to kiss my child goodbye.