Father

The faint and hushed sounds of the bedroom clock

Was all I heard while in my thinking spot

I dreamed that Father would return and knock

But I knew that these dreams would come to naught

I wondered if Son echoed through his brain

Or if he even remembered my name

If my needs pounded him like heavy rain

Or if my existence brought him deep shame

I sat and pondered how it must have felt

As father walked away from his newborn

If my vehement cries caused him to melt

Or if his countenance showed only scorn

But I sat in confusion, not in pain

Love is not lost, if it is never gained