A Negotiated Peace

The old man and I became friends,
It did take about fifty years,
Two pepperpot peas in the same pod
A fate chosen for us, the youngest
On our family trees,
Fierce, and feathers easily ruffled,
In our quiet ways.

Venturing away from family,
He left the hearth of farm
And I, into the ranks of vocation's
Mystery
Pitting us in puzzlement and
Confusion.

He was a very dear man,
My father,
Gruff, with few words,
Competent in all matters
Practical.
Hummed under his breath
But always in tune.


It was an uneasy peace
Between us that
Time took and tumbled
Against the years, 
Until frail in his hundredth one
We parted,
Understanding each other
With few words
Quietly negotiated,
The old man and I had
Become friends.