Generations

First there came good Adam, eater of the fruit
Then came Abel: brother to Cain, the fratricidal brute.
Later came that baby, whose dad was all of ours,
He saved us from our sinning with his sacrificial powers.
Romans, Vikings, Greeks and Celts, all along the line,
But here we jump much further, to this present time.
I sit here with two others, two fathers and two sons,
And barely word is spoken, no wool to be spun.
Is it so strange to see a trio so lost for babble?
We three who share the very genes of man who ate the apple.
Perhaps the gap is just too big, the years too out of touch,
It just no longer matters, well, not so very much.

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