How Are You Handling This?

Thank You,
My Father.
For insisting that I concentrate,
On 'that' which I am.
With the giving of no attention,
To that which I am not...
Others from their crevices,
Whisper in ears to mention.

Although,
My Father I must admit...
Adventuring to experiment,
Has always found a place...
To stay on my preference list.
How are You handling this?
Since...
I am here as your work-in-progress.

If You are cool with it,
My Father...
I am too.
And so far...
You have not given me a cold shoulder.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!