Fishing with my Father

Captured in time, Trapped forever for my pleasure. The image veiled, Fuzzy like the eyes peering out. Two dilemmas, Aching with affliction, Composure and excitement, Chaos and clarity. Skin like leather, Rough hide worn and softened. And a five o’clock shadow That arrives around three. Wrinkles write his age, Like rings on a Redwood Addiction hangs from his lips, And ashes on our tiny vessel. Years’ worth of ashes, Collect around him. Of those he has burned, And of whom has burned he. The image has captured, More than just a simple slip of senility Missed what I thought Was the catch of the day. I cannot look away, As though I am looking at myself, Staring deeply into my future, It is the most frightening, and comforting feeling in the world.