THE EDGE

THE EDGE

You smelled the lake before you saw
The edge – aromas of a time before –
You absorbed the tears of a broken
Mother – while they put wet clay
Over your Father.

Loosing yourself in a haze of puberty,
In that barren land; you got lost in an
Advancing mist, but the ghost of your
Father finds you now, leaning in,
And whispering through the breeze;
“you’re not the first to suffer –
you can face adversity.”

Moved… to another time, another place,

When you made paper boats; with your
Dad’s fragile breath – whispers of wonder –
Setting them free….
You look to the sky and feel, you sense
A different sphere and know…. Your Father
Was in his element when he was with you
And water, on this land.

Although much of him has faded –

You realise this, it fastens you to
The earth – loneliness disappearing;
Drifting away from the edges.