It is

almost

like a

ritual

they left

me-from

Sunday

school .

  
every night

I search for

them

amongst

the sunset's

banquet

clouds.


I can't

touch

them but

I always

look and

they are

there.


mother's tangled

auburn hair,


my father's

gypsy

smile.



these moments

I hold deep

inside my

soul.

without

equal,


the night

beyond

comes to

finger paint

it's tapestry

of black

upon my

childhood

memories.


and  remind

me once

again

that they

left me far

too soon.


I was

just a child

and most of

my life

they have now

become just

clouds.

that can't

love me

back.


that can't

take me

by the

hand

with them

ever again.