Father

We see him ageless now, but ancient,

with senility assumed,

because we skulk around

behind his back in alleged secrecy,

squirreling away these

f r a g m e n t s

assumed as something lost --

Finders keepers after all

and if you snooze you lose ...

Does he really never notice?

This coercing...

This cajoling...

This childish clamoring for more

While we curse this chaos

and call it's creation coincidence

refusing all responsibility for it's reality

or repair...

Somehow it feels just like forgiveness

when we've thieved only to waste, watching

all appreciation slip away in grains of sand,

within these missing moments fleeting

in a gift we'd rather steal, as

we're all stupider

than we've

known.

Yet

in his

wisdom he

allows it -- leaving

minutes unattended -- in this

lesson carefully crafted, then ignored;

letting yet more fall, he entrusts delinquent

stewards with a whole new day we've surely

stolen, in all this careless waste of time.