It was going to rhyme.
But that took from it.
Forced words I didn’t want to say.
So now it doesn’t.
She wrote too, you know.
Probably not for you.
You were just a one night whirlwind of lust
That danced into and straight back out of her life.
I know because she told me.
It doesn’t bother me …
Don’t think that it does.
You were engaged at the time.
Perhaps on a break.
Or maybe she just tells herself that.
To ease the guilt.
You do not know of my conception.
You do not know me.
I long … sometimes … to know you.
To see, if you are As she says …
She says I have your eyes.
They always startle her.
Today I find my thoughts treading softly down the path
That could lead me to you.
But then I think of your children.
Whom you raised.
Tucked into bed at night with a soft kiss and whispers of sweet dreams.
Today, especially, I think of you.
And long to know you.
But today is your day.
17th June 2010. “Father’s” Day.