And I seeing you old upon your chair

And I, seeing you old upon your chair
Thinking how cold and heartless you could be.
The stern and bitter visage of your stare
That sense of something lost I couldn’t see.
Your anger, hardened like a winter chill
Had bruised our childhood days and left us flawed,
We who had wondered why and wonder still
The coldness of your touch that never thawed.
I who was half-afraid to reappear
To look you in the eye and stare you down,
See nothing but an old and haggard dear,
A face that hides behind a frightened frown.
And looking at your face which run with tears
See nothing but your guilt and all your fears.

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