We lived
In our Goodwill bathing suits
During our arduous summer isolation
From school and friends.
...
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ahhh...that heartsick gulf between a child's hopes and the painful dissipation of those hopes at the will of an unsympathetic parent. I lived such memories, too, and what amazes me is how resilient the hearts of children are. That they will keep on hoping. That they will keep the spark of optimism alive for another day. You have so artistically and poignantly captured that in this piece. Another gem.
Fathers are subject to endless demands and have many responsibilities. That said, we had a rambler, too. MM
To want for just the simplest thing and then it doesn't happen. Always living on hope. I know this story. How right you are.
The last line of your poem: Some fathers are never Dads should have been the title of this poem. As compared to: All fathers aren't Dads. Life has many faces and many colours; as such, you've written a nice poem with the muse of what you went through. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Thanks for the suggestion. I followed up, and changed the title, adding the word, Not.
But I saw, I heard, and now I speak. Some fathers are never Dads. Relationship problems, how some cannot communicate, and love and show love....... a very fine poem. tony