A dying father told his son
To die more each day is heavenly
To feel each moment pass away
Words can not describe it
His life before meant nothing
The pieces, they did not fit
& now that they have found their place
A smile coats his dying face
The son, though grown, has yet to find
An outlet for his dreamy visions
His father dreamt in black & white
His father made decisions
& the cancer that dines on his brain
Paints his sleeping world with colors
The pictures make him wake in pain
He decides he won’t recover
He’s a man who thrives on normalcy
The blinders serve a purpose
He’s fantasized in secrecy
Of walking his sons footsteps
But could he tell that to his namesake?
The one that he gave life to
In color he sees his mistakes
The blinders, his son sees through
The son respects his father’s ways
But this too can’t be voiced
& as his father counts his days
His son, at last, has made a choice
In between each gasping breath, his father’s eyes, they
shine
The loving son clasps a cold hand
& promises to be colorblind
& when his father breathes no more
That’s the last breath he will too take
& he will pray that they will meet
No blinders and no namesakes
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