My dad gets a flag
on this day,
even if I’m not there
to plant it.
© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday
Your words once meant more to me than my next breath, until they didn’t. So well you did making that happen, through silence and invisibility, entered into, I assumed, for your own preservation, that you have seen to mine as well.
Till now that I, instead of hating you, thank you.
For what I once endured as a sign of your contempt, I now accept as a last act of love, unwitting. From which I emerge, knowing that, for both far better, and a little worse, I will never be the same.
© Copyright 2015 Bill Friday