If Only I'd Cared...

How did I lose you, I confess

It couldn’t be love, but carelessness,

I thought the years in their passing might

Be spent in caring, and bind us tight.

 

For I was there in the days untold

To watch your faltering steps unfold,

To see you when I came home at night

And rock your cradle in pure delight.

 

I lit the fires with a paper spill

Protecting you from the winter chill

And prayed for you to the Lord above

For sending his gentle sign of love.

 

I watched you form, I watched you grow

And sometimes had to be strict, I know,

But did whatever I could to guide

With the love that I felt for you, inside.

 

Then one day, off in the world you went

To the great adventure life had sent,

And still I followed you, day by day

In your youthful follies and wayward way.

 

And wasn’t I there when you came back home

With an open door from your urge to roam?

I tried to nurture the friend in you

As a father’s love has a need to do.

 

Then you had little ones of your own

And the years sped by, the children grown

You fought and struggled and did your best

Then you, like me had an empty nest.

 

But you grew bitter and full of doubt

And questioned what life was all about,

While I still offered a caring hand

In hopes that your grieving heart would mend.

 

I may be old and you’re not so young

Though still I was proud to call you son,

But now, for reasons I just can’t see

You seem to have turned your back on me.

 

Your cruel words, like a pointed dart

Have finally broken this old man’s heart,

I wouldn’t be feeling this bleak distress

If only I’d cared not more, but less.

 

David Lewis Paget

 

 

Reviews

[Foxemerald]

What a phenomenal and realistic read, that caters well to the thoughts that spiral through the mindsof those who live in the rich context of age, and circle of people that live in its passage. It seems as though we're always aware of this context when we're around someone much older or much younger than we are. I understand its implications more when I'm around my grandmother. There are always the typical platitudes of relation, comparisons to other family members, and musings about character and how children uniquely mature. In between these gentle thoughts, that make little impression, there is the ocassional line that consists of what we really think, especially when one starts to feel the detriments of age- 'if only I did not care so much, I would not hurt so.' A wholesome and nutritious write, with substantial truth to it.

[Emily Feret]

Wow, what a powerful read. Truly heart wrenching. I just want to give you a big hug!

[Yellow Butterfly]

A beautiful and heartfelt write ..... I can feel your pain throughout this write for a son it is clear to see you love unconditionally.

Nicely penned David...

[Sumit]

Sir, you have written it so beautifully. It so profoundly brings about the pain of a father whose son has betrayed him. I wish none suffers from this pain. I respect you as a poet. I would also be happy if you could review my writings so that I may improve upon my writing skills.

[Clayton Bardwell]

I sure hope this is not from a life experience.

[Phantom Heart]

David, I just became a mother and I really understand the poem. I never thought I would be thinking of my daughter's future the way I do! I think I love every line and rhyme. Thanks for being such a fantastic writer and sharing your writing.

[Valentine]

David, read this one on our other site..I was flabbergasted at the sentimentality in this writing..it has some beautiful lines..Love Kathie

[redflutterby]

I've experienced many feelings while reading your poems and now you have brought tears to my eyes. Rarely am i without words my friend but this is one occasion when i can't express how deeply this has moved me.Thank you for sharing your amazing talent with all of us.

[Veronica Chandler]

Oh dear fine sir, after reading this piece of your's, my heart is breaking and the tears are burning in my eye sockets, welling their way out onto my cheek, and hotly pouring down. Nothing can hurt us quite as profoundly as the words and deeds of our grown children. For as we advance in years we have grown a bit of a thick skin against practically all of life's thorns, but are utterly helpless against thorns such as these. Each piece of poetry it seems comes from some balance of heart and mind; some are more mind and some more heart, but this one feels like it is made from mostly heart...
Painful read which does sear it's way into my spirit.

[Marie]

Well, children do that sometimes. But they generally find their way back.

[quinfinn]

i have never had the privilege( or curse) of fatherhood and i feel those paternal longings now that i am aging. however i feel that we learn from every experience and somewhere in all those wonderfully worded lines is a message just for you. i often find that my own poetry teaches me something about myself, when i revisit it later on in years. i think that we poets are sending subconscious messages to ourselves at times and it is important to figure out what those messages are. well penned and quite an achievement....