Unwritten letters flock like vultures above my father as he sleeps,
rewriting themselves as storm-wrecked wrens.
A plethora of apologies too late to be useful.
Anger has become his macabre mask.
Looking to me for release from his guilt
He smiles,
the old smile of my father when he was mine
   and I,
           and I was his.
Remorse shows; fleeting as a breeze in dreams of sunny days and peaceful times.

We sit watching the clouds transform;
           bunnies, puppies, cars, and trains.
The sky is melted crayons, each color bleeding seamlessly into the next.
On my father’s lap I am a princess
Drawing castles and writing stories,
Love spills from my pen, soda pours from his glass.

We run and run through the yard,
around the giant flowering dogwood,
over the patio,
past the flower beds filled to bursting with lilies and daffodils,
        shouting and laughing.
Grass grabs at my father’s feet.
I turn, knowing our sport is at its end.
The clouds change, dark and menacing while the sky becomes turbulent as the sea.
Dad yells for quiet.

                                
                                    Everything stops.


Time freezes as I wait for his next outraged outburst.

Like a child I run to him wanting my daddy…
                  Like a fool I am turned away.