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Jan 2021
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.
from page 20 of”Musing On The Cricket Game of Life Part 1 1/2”
Written by
James E Roethlein  51/M/Middletown, Pa
(51/M/Middletown, Pa)   
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