His Apology
Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
My father said sorry
like lifting a rusted gate:
both hands,
feet planted,
more noise than movement.
But the gate rose.
That matters.
We stood on opposite sides
of the years it had guarded.
Then he held it open,
and neither of us called
crossing easy.
46 words · 12 lines · Free Verse