Handwriting



Even as I write so fast
In the ill-formed characters
I can discern my father taking shape.

Blending my father
And my ignorance of him
I am giving the final touches
to a poem
that my father may never write.




Poetry by anoop
Read 807 times
Written on 2009-05-08 at 13:35

Tags Poem 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text