My Fathers’ Son

Well, the man steps out

Into the dark, cobbled street

And, there before him stood

A tiny boy with bare feet

“I can’t believe this sight

Nowadays it isn’t right.”

The boy smiles thru his pale skin

The man responds with a kindly grin

And takes his camera

To take a snapshot into the light

“I can’t believe this sight

Nowadays it isn’t right.”

It’s all gone quiet and red

The boy looks half dead

He hands the man a looking glass

Into which he peers

Mesmerised by what he sees

He’s then reduced to tears

The boy shouts

“Don’t leave me Dad, in the street

For I’ve nothing on my feet

My stomach aches for lack of food

And my head for sleepless nights

I can’t believe this sight

I’m running out of light

Don’t leave me here Dad

Are you frightened of what you see Dad?

Are you blind? Can’t you see?

I’m your son; it’s me

Please come back Dad.”

© Andrea Coltman