The profile of the past etched out on thick drawing paper, delicately and gently, in 1962.
I never met him.
Yet I see him now, gently cast in a new and toddling face, frowning, exploring.
I don't know him yet.
Yet I see him now, gently cast in a new and toddling face, frowning, exploring.
I don't know him yet.
He never met you.
Lyric, he might be; scholar he is; artist, we'll see; dancer, he tries; teacher, he will be; farmer, I hope for; bee keeper, we need; father and grandfather, we pray.
Your father's face, Da.
Lyric, he might be; scholar he is; artist, we'll see; dancer, he tries; teacher, he will be; farmer, I hope for; bee keeper, we need; father and grandfather, we pray.
Your father's face, Da.
The past casts the future after all.
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