Father… Dad

Father… Dad

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And maybe someday,
We’ll get to the point,
Where I won’t have to call
You father-
And the word “dad”
Would sound right.

And maybe someday,
All the screaming would
Become distant,
Like a memory locked,
In an abyss,
And I’ll gaze at you,
With new eyes.

And maybe,
Just maybe,
I’ld master the art of
Letting go,
Or shrug off the past,
And the words you’ve spoken,
Like the wind blows,
Pollen apart.

And maybe,
It’s just wishful thinking,
That you read this poem,
And realise,
An adult’s plea to make things
Right with a father…
Or maybe- you won’t?