As I review assorted escapades
of youth, of 12, 16, and 21,
I clearly see they feature tones and shades
of sexual predation. What was done
was never charged: too mild then and, too,
I thought myself mature and strong enough.
I never felt a victim – in my view,
the scene was flattering and I was tough.

I see now how uneasy I was then
while trying to avoid the offered feast.
I almost sense the pressure once again,
to smile understandingly, at least.
Familiar whispering and soft assault:
I waxed a little rude, and felt at fault.

This entry was posted in Aging, Family, Love, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Revisits

  1. That is grim reality. As a father, this affected me deeply.

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