Happiness...

I look in the mirror
Big nose, thick specs
And now
sporting sideburns.

In looks at least
I am
every inch
my father’s child.

I remember
when he looked
pretty much
like I do now.

I have an image of him,
still on the docks
and playing football,
though not semi-pro any more.

I often wonder
did he ever regret
not taking the chance
to play the game he loved as a pro?

Was he really
happy enough
with a marriage
and us?

I smile and realise
That I am now
the same age
as he was then.

And rather
than just accepting
this happiness
I feel my ambition kicking in.

But maybe he knew that
failing at something you want
is more painful than succeeding
at the less you accept.