For my mother, who liked their art
but not their implementation.
For my father, who cried at The Sleeper
and was proud of me for being his son.
For my sister, who may never understand
them though they brought a lump to her throat.
For my nephew, who I hope will one day see the
gods do not all play for Manchester United.
For my lover, who shines from within.
For my past, which sinned against me
as I sinned against it.
For my future, however short, or long;
I hope I use you well.
For attonement.Share on Facebook