A daughter meets her old father

His eyes though a trifle bloodshot
Were mellow, soft pools up close
And though his hands shook a little
They were smoothly strong in repose
Now, his laughter sounded brittle.
As he lifted the silver teapot.

And I, watching through slanted eyes
Was cruel. Hurt lashes out unforeseen
Fragile love can have a cold touch
When it thinks of all that could have been
"You know, you shouldn't drink so much
Your truth gets shadowed by your lies."

He looked up quickly, the tea had spilt
Onto the bright, white table cloth
A dark, spreading stain of darkness
He picked up tissue, no sign of wrath
Instead, he suddenly looked helpless
Dabbing broken-heartedly at his guilt

His words felt like the calling sea
In my ears. "I will not apologise
For who I am and you know I love you."
And yes, it was there in his eyes
Through whiskeyed haze, shining true
And then I let him pour my tea.

© anindita sengupta