The Spring After the Fall

Robert, why are you grieving
That your son is leaving?
Love, the thing, not you
With your selfish pride, can you?
Ah! Your heart turns tender
For yourself and not the sender.
You lie and lie to yourself and cry
“It’s another, not I.”
You weep, yet I know why.
Now no matter the twisted name
Love covers your shame.
Though you cannot express
How love feels, nor can guess,
It is what we were born for.
Still, it is yourself you mourn for.

Posted in Perspective, Poem for Your Day, Poetry