like us all
walks, one day,
in a new direction.
Sheep don’t do that,
leave their flock.
In this he becomes a black sheep
turning away from name, money, easy street-
which isn’t so easy.
With him, now, he carries weight
of blame, criticism, and no one bothering to ask
Years, many, pass.
His children grow, not knowing the stories he never told,
seeing him as just another sheep folded into the flock.
They wander for a path of their own.
One, separating from the rest, looks back
why he never asked why.