My aunt told me a story once
About a boy that is her brother
And a man that is my father.
She said that boy always loved music;
He loved to sing and dance
The way he thought about the art with a passion;
With passion so large, how could you not love him?

My daddy was adopted.
And he frolics and jokes about
His parents; my grandparents
Not caring.
Favoring.
He puts on that happy face
And laughs,
And laughs,
And laughs until he cries.

My father and I
Are very similar in mind.
So I know
Laughing wasn’t the cause of
His tears.
The way he chokes up at the end of a laugh
And how he barely talks afterwards.
I know
Because I’ve felt it too, Dad.

My daddy works as an engineer now.
He supports his whole family
With his job.
But I wonder,
Does he enjoy his work?
Because all I can think of is that boy
I’ve never met
But vaguely seen behind his walls;
The boy that loved and made something out ot art;
The boy that art changed.

This is what I ponder
When I hear the subdued music
Play behind your door
As you work for me, and my mom, and my brother.