His door's open, for now -
The routine,
Wednesday night at the range.
He learns
with Dad's direction...
Not hunting or masonry.
Nonetheless, a skill transferred, father to son, a moment shared.
As often, involving THE BALL.
We don't talk, we work on our swing.
I'm learning now
that my time for teaching has passed.
he's done with my MOM moments -
worry and concern and all that girl stuff
But I'll take it,
this bit of parallel play
while working on my own swing
and enjoying the thrill of contact, when it happens.
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𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 *
FINALLY, A POEM
i love your poems so much.
by Someone Somewhere; ; Report