To My Kids

By William Worsham

I have spent most of the meaningful years of my life being a father.
So I only do what I know.
I tell you, “Go this way!”
Or that.

You go your imprudent way through subsistence somehow
despite me.
You drift along,
a leaf upon a sidewalk lolling in a ruptured breeze.

Sometimes flying high above and fluttering against a bright white sky—
other times crashing back down and sitting dead in the grass.
Then you toss and roll about down the walk,
or through the grass, caught here and there on a blade, but still moving.

As your parent, this is where I must have faith—
I think you will go many long days before you hit some stream
in some location I cannot see,
and sink to the bottom.

Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student