The words of
our fathers
Speaking
Through
atmospheres of impatience
Through
lives unattended
Or
unexplored
What will
become of
The message
there repeated
Falling
Through
attitudes too sure
Through expectations
unmet
Through
hands held together
In unexplained
loss
And love
What will
become of
The hope in
the whisper
Rocking
In a quiet
room
Soft breath
on his cheek
The gentle
beat of a heart against his
Looking into
a future
Uncertain
Unprepared
But willing
to believe
What will
become of
The child of
the father
Running
From the
words they will not hear
Crashing
against the hope
Of the other
The quiet
room forgotten
The meaning
somehow lost
The words that
held no cost
Tony
Whitford 7/15/2014
