Almost Comments

Ah, father and son relations. I’ve written a number of poems on these. The first that came to mind, Neal, was Two Like Charges written last year when my older son was forty. To/on my dad, if you’re so inclined, see I Was Visited and/or How Faint and Elusive, written on my dad’s passing which happened while I was in the hospital room with him. -Glen

An awkward transition time, isn't it? At least he still hugs you... I'm going through the same, and my twelve year old half a head taller than me and deep voiced. Yikes!

How simply yet complexly you caught that time in which a child is beginning to outgrow the name- boy- but yet is not anywhere near to being the man he is becoming by both leaps and bounds and centimeter by slow centimeter