Eighteen stone
in a six-two frame,
encasing storm-stilling fury,
steel-tipped smiles and
wreaking-ball laughter.
Harbouring pain
rather than giving an inch;
pursuing only normality
for him and his.
Withholding himself
in the name of fatherhood;
too distant to chance
unmet ambitions.
Now thirteen stone
in a six-two frame;
beaten, cowering
morphine-distant
from all he ‘loved’.
Lost in fitful dreams -
then it comes,
the final withdrawal.
Too late for an answer now.
Eighteen stone
in a six-foot frame,
no model to follow,
but my own.
Steve Jeff Page
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/son-s-lament/
