Years After



Years After

Years after he is gone
you see a man on the street
walking with your father’s gait,
the one he grew into long after you were gone
from the house in a life of your own.

You want to stop the car and look
to be sure it’s not him
but you only drive slow
watching in the rear-view mirror.

Hours later you see your father
with memory’s eye and feel your right foot
press the brake to the floor
of the living room
in a house he never lived to see.

Mel Livatino

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