A poem that questions
I know my father loved me
though he never told me so
I know for sure he knew me
though how was I to know
Now he’s gone so many years
My tears have washed away the fears
That he alone stands closely near
with watching eye so piercing clear
I see him then he disappears
If only he could see me now
His son who stands atop the bow
Could he conceive that I would grow
How today can I ever know?
He never told me so.
— WOLRAD
(A poem from the Wolrad collection #351)
