Visitation

His child smiles lovingly and with admiration at his Dad, who stands at the coffee bar at Starbucks, paused and smiling back at his son.  They sit nearly silent, but at rest at home, the single Dad with the thousand mile stare, blended with compassion; His mind passes gently over the fabric of adoration as he reflects on the lives of others he sees, wishing pieces of theirs were his, seeing his son.  His eyes glaze with pensive sadness, knowing its “visitation.”  What a cold and awful word.

tis nothing if not heard

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