Fathers Day

His dead mother
haunted him in the suffering eyes
of his wife
as she sat,
day after day,
year after year,
drinking coffee at the kitchen table.

Until finally,
he wondered why he was so
angry at her for sitting there all day

His sins
haunted him in the proud eyes
of his son
that roamed
through his sadness
like a mad bull
through the most delicate china

Until finally,
He wondered why he was so
impatient with the pig headed boy all the time


His living father
haunted him in the expectant eyes
of the children
that kicked a football
to themselves
in the street
every afternoon.

Until finally,
He met his own eyes in the bathroom
mirror one morning and wept.