Papa the Unready

And where are you, lone grey man? Where are you in your head? Head bowed over your chest;

What is left of your manly chest! Cursed by emotional damage you played the fool;

Once virile and girl chasing, the world underfoot;

And your young child nearby, is watching you;

Let him be asked, let him be heard;

You watch back, grey man, and try and predict his future;

Looking;

Flabby chest sinking downward;

Your stomach to merge;

What girth, what circumference, like a boab!

Your genitals wiggling as you walk;

You love them and touch them fleetingly;

In them are the history of your sexual tumblings! 

This child, the matter of fact to your lost family tree;

It was you who shook to Black Sabbath at seventeen;

Slipped though relationships until done;

And missed the chance to secure permanent jobs;

You were left with this accident, a child at fifty-two;

Your lover died;

You mourned;

Her spirit is melting the moon;

And sitting before you watching, is the warmest evidence of her;

Waiting for you.