you look like my father

a woman stops

me in the street and says,

you look

exactly

like my father.

she may be thirty

or more.

attractive.

she's lovely in her dress.

her hair,

just so. reddish

in the late sun.

she's a beauty that makes

me think

of Ireland.

thank you, i tell her.

not knowing what else 

to say.

i hope he's well.

to which she smiles and

taps my arm

like young women

do to their father's,

and says.

i wish he was still here.