I remember your face.
The lines deeply sketched
By a man too proud to repent.
Each crease bought him justification,
He was never wrong.
An apron worn as a uniform,
Sharp and as creased,
But lacking a medal of honor.
You went unnoticed by him,
We all did.
Your life (if you had one)
Opened eyes already too bright.
A bird in a cage
May still joyfully whistle,
But the songs are always of freedom.
You were my mother sometimes.
Nurture forgot itself
And nature hid behind a tree.
You had a purpose once,
Then it became his own.
Now I sit and remember,
You trapped in time.
Another grey memory
Of a life,
My father refused to color in.
