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Book 6 Page 16

 

Chip off the old block

My old man and I

we’re like cheese and chalk, or is it ‘chalk and cheese.’

At times he’s almost

impossible to please.

But I’m noticing that

as I grow old and wise,

our similarities are becoming more obvious,

and I cannot tell a lie, ‘he’s  a lot like me.’

 

It’s like we’re made

from the very same mode.

Pressed from the same,

‘genetic code.’

Shaped just like the bible says;

from the very same clay.

We do seem to be similar,

I must say!

 

When he hurts his 'back' he walks this funny way.

Well I might laugh, but I shouldn’t ,for I do the same.

And when he gets frustrated, his left eye starts to twinge,

well I do that, when I whinge!

 

And the grey patches in his hair,

when I go grey ,I go grey exactly there!

And when he communicates, he talks a lot with his hands.

Now I’m finding I communicate this same way now I'm a man.

 

Now I really hate to admit it, for we really are poles apart,

but sometimes it looks like I’m a blue print, after me old man’s heart.

The resemblance is uncanny; I’m actually like him a lot.

 

So when all is said and done,

although it is a terrible, terrible shock,

I am indeed a chip of me old mans block.

© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au   31/7/99 dominicj7@poetry.net.au