my hands feel over sized
and i think of my father
the man he used to be
blazing mad and smiling
dipping his fingers into the water as we sail along
and i think of him now
only memory
what i refuse to accept from him
half hearted and blythe
racing through a life of his own
one without me
so that i can say i feel better taking nothing at all
than small morsels of obligation
hurting wholeheartedly
is better than hurting by some one eles'
bent up terms