He Lays a Palisade

The reason why
the dad with daughter
have a thing
called she his queen
is not for rule,
but reverence.
A sacred bond,
soft and silent.

The reason
every man
longs to be understood
not by the world,
but by the one
who holds his truth
like a mirror
before time slips
through the fingers.

He shows his mirror,
the soul within
all he’s seen,
all he’s weathered
to the one
before the clock
devours his voice.

He lays a palisade
in his queen’s mind
not of walls,
but wordless strength.
A map of wisdom,
buried quiet.
She walks on,
knowing and unknowing,
a soul that carries
what she cannot name.

He serves her still
a raft in storm,
held together
by devotion.
He knows
he’ll lose.
Yet he bears.
He stays.

Living or gone,
what they never said
still breathes
in silence,
in echoes,
in chaos
they never chose.

And somewhere,
between the storm
and stillness,
his love
remains.