Phather Phantasm

Half-seen in my half-stare,
half-believing you are there.

Faded memories and faded thoughts,
raindrops falling on sun-seared rock,
quickly come, and quickly part.

I was eleven when you did not die;
you took your leave, never saying goodbye.

And I, the fool, follow the fool
walking barefoot on broken glass,
and tread upon the blood-stained shards,
waiting to wound me ere I pass.