My Son, His Father!

As the son slowly rose up.
I watched him as he played.
His rays appeared to stop as light rested.
His reflection was identical to his father's.

I hanged my head as I listened. sorrow for him.
heard the playfulness in his voice.
But his intentions concerned me,
his words promoted him but hurt me.

My soul searched to know.
My ear longed to hear, love
instead I felt disappointed.

As his voice rose and fell, mine hardly ever did.
I give up, turned away disinterested.
I cared, but instead, my joy faded.

Not my beloved son.
I stood quietly, sadden, sympathetic.
He failed to grasp the error of his father's action.

For more of Ruth's poetry purchase, Fantasy/Controversy or My Reality.

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