Stately he sits alone this portrait of a man. Encased in silver, yet alive all the same. Eyes engaging, moving, knowing, pulling me in from every direction. Are they filled with humor or pain? Forever young, his Roman features attract, though black and white. Young girls would swoon from his inspection. Handsomely he gazes down at me from above. His crooked smile is mine, as are his hopes and dreams. Are you proud of me now, Dad?
(previously published by Marilyn De Paula on LiteraryMagic.com)
