Father!
“Who is this stranger – solemn, pensive, mute –
Who haunts our house with vacantly vague looks;
Whose mind seems more engaged with dreams than facts,
Oblivious of problems; distantly
Preoccupied with abstruse reveries;
Muttering incantations to himself whilst
Counting numbers on his chin, with fingers
Fluttering lightly as a moth’s dusk wings?”.
“Hush, child!. Do not disturb him, for he builds
Great castles in the air and brings to life
Again people once dead, or else invents
Characters, places, things that never were!.
He will not harm you – although he does seem rather
Odd – this stranger is a poet, and your father!”.
