Version 2

We are frozen
in childhood summers.
Your face
a flicker book
of memories,
features blurred
by love and time.
 
The sound of
strumming chords
from the bedroom
next to mine.
 “Stairway to Heaven”
still makes me
feel safe.
 
My only
Man of the house.
You were
my benchmark
when boys were cruel
and fathers
were gone.
 
But now
when I look closely,
in pixels of truth
our father looks back.
Does our mother
look back
at you?



Version 1

We are frozen
in childhood summers.
Your face
a flicker book
of memories,
features blurred
by love and time.

I see leather,
motor bikes.
Strumming chords
in your bedroom.
“Stairway to Heaven”
still makes me
feel safe.

But now
when I look closely
in pixels of truth
my father looks back.
Smiling.
Does our mother
look back
at you?