The father

The son

One hand so big

One hand so tiny

Held each other

The father

And the son

Stared at the book

The numbers seemed strange

To both of them

A father

A son

Weary from a day’s work

Looking forward to baseball

Talked strategy on the way

A father

A son

Each measured

With baleful glare

Both found wanting

The father

The son

One pleading

One silent

Distrust in the air

A father

A son

One weeping

By the grave

Wondering why