Father, father
parents aren’t talked about much in poetry these days

Even cats —
they clean themselves
and walk away
when life beckons you

The world is not what it used to be;
caution and sense? hell, they are zimmer frames in waiting rooms to heaven

Yet, I haven’t been strong without you:
fugues confuse me
and every galliard
sounds like an elegy

When you were here watching me
the monsters vanished like night to morning

And I felt as if I was flying,
confident the sun would wear a veil
when I became reckless, when I got
too close

It was you, all you, your guiding voice
like the Chinese character, the one for wind, the one for sky

x x

In the portrait of my heart the canvas is empty without you


  1. I’m sure he still guides you.


    1. 🙂 yes, I know he does.

      Liked by 1 person

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