my father spoke to me of many things                             my father spoke to me of many things              of inner beauty, of a peace on wings              that comes from being humbly blessed              with  kindness, love, and the rest              yes, my father would speak  but I,              I only wanted not wanting to cry              at all the gleam of all the toys               shown off by such silly boys              And I'm sad, so very ashamed to say,               I would but barely hear, then look away              I speak to my son of many things              about the light within a soul that sings              of love and a compassion that brings relief              from aimless strife,  and pointless grief              but this is not how he cares  to live              craving  more than I can ever can give              wanting those same toys which never last               almost  from my memories long past               though in the mornings, he avoids my eyes               at night I can hear his sobs and  sighs              But I trust, I pray              one day my son may              speak so to his son                and not be turned away