Once each week at visiting hour
To me he comes past prison tower
feeling his way with guard in lead
To fulfill with love our mutual need

My breath does pant, my heart does race
at the gruesome sight of his ruined face
And I recall with pain the very day
I took the gun, shot his face away

Mostly gone the sight, the smell, the taste
Leaving ugly, disfigurement in handsome place
but my act to him alters not his goal
He cares for me with impassioned soul

Though surgical skill could restore the looks
he spends his money on attorney's books
To give me pardon as he has done
for he is my father and I his son