Brown Eyes on Father's Day

You ran to me with a bag in your hands,
The oyster brown shells of your eyes
Alight with excitement, your friends delighted,
Fathers circling children, children circling you.
You hugged me unforced, ardently I surrendered:
Your hair smelling of candles, your smile transient
Like a star in transit behind the molten meteor
That graced you in a film about wishes.
You pulled out a hat you’d painted,
Placed it on the ephemeral temple of my head,
Joined me in a fervor remiss, that I had shamefully
Ejected from a premonition:
That I would have left you alone there,
For my own comfort, my own disgrace.

Eyes can’t look at you any more sweetly
Than when you look into mine.