A Legacy Unanswered

This poem was inspired by a news story I heard on the radio. It is a work in progress. This is the portfolio version.

A Legacy Unanswered

The old man was dead.
His son sat outside.
A song in his head and
a tackle box by his side.

The tackle box was full
Of hooks and of strings
No truths and no answers
Just bobbers and things.

The song in his head
was an old stupid tune
sung to put him to bed
at night in his room.

The box in his hand
And the song in his head
the pitiful legacy of
the man who was dead.

It was here on the stoop
Of the funeral hall
the son saw he didn’t
know his father at all.

The father never told
the son what he loved
he never told talked about
what he was proud of.

The son sat awhile
And hated his father
fighting back bile and
hating his father.

Just as the past
looked terribly grim
the man’s own little son
came and sat down by him.

All of the sudden
it struck him like lightening
The flash that he had
grotesquely enlightening

“When I’m dead,”
thought the man with despair
“How will my own
son’s experience compare?”

What will I leave him,
but old songs and bait?
How can I stop him
from sharing this fate.

That night he wrote a
letter like no letter before.
A letter of love
to the boy he adored.

I’ll leave it to him
and when I am gone
He’ll know of a
father who loved his son.

From now ‘til that day
Though, I’ll show him I care
Whenever he needs me
I’ll always be there.