There is the family photograph <br />That is your father’s face, <br />There is your father’s father <br />Grey-gathering years apace; <br />The son, bright-eyed in the morning, <br />The father, lined and drawn, <br />The son became the father <br />On the day that you were born. <br /> <br />We’ve all set out on the highway <br />Our fathers wished us well, <br />The sons became the fathers <br />In the same distinctive spell; <br />The road of all beginnings <br />Is all there is to lend, <br />But many a twist, and many a turn <br />Has marred us at the end. <br /> <br />He was my father’s father, <br />I am my father’s son, <br />We’ve travelled as far, and farther <br />Than our father’s years have run; <br />The twists and turns of fortune <br />Mean nothing, lost or won, <br />But the love of a father’s father, <br />And the love of a father’s son. <br /> <br />3 September 1977<br /><br />David Lewis Paget<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/father-son-2/
