His face of Mine

My face is a proof of my father's existence
Even though we've never met 
I meet his face every day in the mirror
Sometimes I think to myself ask the mirrored imagine a question

Would my father answer back 
Then snapping back to reality
I pause just to see his face a little longer
Now he is dead so these questions go unanswered

Often I get haunted by my father wanting me a his bed side, as death was lingering over 
In my anger I refused 
Thinking he had a life time to have me by his side, but he choose the death bed to play catch up 
So I keep this bottled in my mind's sand pit 

Unfortunately once in a while the wind blow the sand away
Uncover the bottle leaving confusion
Asking why I wasn't apart of his life 
Was I a waste of time, or just a boring person to be around

Was my conversations not interesting enough
I will never have nor get the right answers 
But I'll be stuck seeing his face in my mirror for the rest of my life 
David Palmer meet Larry Palmer