The Family Trade

He tore it down in a swoop,
your sweet loving Papa:
the Table of Elements
that watched over your sleep.

You were eighteen then, and
dissolving the scientist within,
left the wall's whiteness unfilled,
turning its absence into a shrine.

That did it! A rebel on one day,
subjugated the morrow.
At least he was happy your Papa,
he had found an apprentice

and left you footsteps to follow.
At parties and armed
with the deep angry wrinkles of learning,
...