– morning talk with my father –

The grey Midwest sky has reared

its troubled head again, as I

crawl out of grey comfort with this

plaid bathrobe I’m in.

Time to return his call… time to

give this talk my all… how

do I know what I’m sayin’, even

in the crack of the A.M.?

 

He’s happy to say he loves me;

I’m content just to hear his voice.

Annoying as some of his calls seem, I’m

aware responding is my choice.

 

Why do I love him back though?

Why do I

feel like I could not,

would not, should not

tell him?

Why is this need for love so?

Will this grey

heart ever repair,

refit, mend its

self then?

 

 

D.J. Whisenant

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s