Fatherhood

I met the under water boy

I thought he was my son

I would hold my breath and dive

Looking for a smile or a word

The treasure of recognition.

Sometimes we would rise to the surface

And on river banks and coast lines

He held my hand

We cast a familiar shadow

But we were both alone.

I knew his eyes were on the horizon

We had thrown stones in patterns before

I would worry and I would worry

About the depths below

I was chilled and

I could move no more

I floated to the surface

Paralyzed I left the water

And the little boy

Submerged as he was

Beyond me.

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