In the quiet moments
I can’t remember my father’s
face
I try and try but it
escapes me
It seems to shift in
my mind’s eye
Snippets of
familiarity
Many facets blurring
into one
Almost pixelated image
Until now I’ve never
understood why
Its because in my
memory
He had more than one
face
There was the proud
father face
The joyful Christmas
morning face
The grumpy morning
after face
The scolding face
The smiling face
The sad face
And for each of these
faces
As we both grew older
There were age groups
He had to many faces
to remember just one
So now when I want to
see his face
I think of a situation
and there he is
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