The Man with a Few Words

We sit across the same table,

his face poised so many questions.

I don’t have answers; I never did.

We sit across the same table

that always served the crunchiest carrots in the world,

while cutlery played its uninterrupted music.

We sit across the same table,

each half belonging to two different eras.

Eating the same food: our preferences, somehow miles apart.

We sit across the same table

In pindrop silence, some valuables have been exchanged

Principles, Values and Determination to name a few

We sit across the same table— carbon copies of one soul.

I call the other half: The Man with a Few Words:

My Father ❤️