Grey-blue portals to lite-brite thoughts lay
Nestled between ever-moving brows and slightly
Centered is a nose from my mother,
Origin betrayed by the slight rise at the bridge.
A smile made crooked at birth;
Fresh greater-than symbol framed by a
Beard that cannot seem to make up its mind
Between the blonde of my youth and
Dark brown of my father.
A body that to me shows whisperings of
Athleticism finally peeking through
Years of college dietary choices too often liquid
Supports a head covered with a preemptive strike of
Salt and pepper seasoning my scalp a few seasons too early
But at least I have my father to look like.