His wild beard haunts my dreams
As I think about the loss of my father…
As a child it was Black Velvet and Canadian Mist
Once the liver damage was too great, the ******
Now, fifteen years after his death
The “what-if’s” still plague me all the time
If only we could have had more time
By the time he passed we were both shooting ******
Destroying any ‘normal life’ dreams
Living as though we were trapped in a fog or mist
This was the way with me and my father
All the way up until his death
It is a funny thing about death
Especially when relating to a mother or father
Sort of changes the dreams
And alters the meaning of time
A little like how it works with ******
One’s whole life caught in a swilling mist
I looked out the window and was confronted by morning mist
And I felt as though I were still in a dream
A dream in which I still had my father
And we had nothing but more time
No worries of disease or death
Living a life free from ******
But I cannot remember my dad without ******
Only wake sometimes from troubling dreams
Eyes clouded by the subconscious mist
Heart struggling with the passing time
So much has happened since his death
I have become a man without the aid of my father
Thinking back to the wild beard of my father
Dark eyes set deep in my dreams
Shrouded with the cloak of death
Standing stoic in the mist
A slave to the master called ******
A victim to the ruler of us all, time
The time had come to confront my father’s death
I peered through the mist of my memories of loss and ******
And saw my father standing as if in a dream
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
His wild beard haunts my dreams
As I think about the loss of my father…
As a child it was Black Velvet and Canadian Mist
Once the liver damage was too great, the ******
Now, fifteen years after his death
The “what-if’s” still plague me all the time
If only we could have had more time
By the time he passed we were both shooting ******
Destroying any ‘normal life’ dreams
Living as though we were trapped in a fog or mist
This was the way with me and my father
All the way up until his death
It is a funny thing about death
Especially when relating to a mother or father
Sort of changes the dreams
And alters the meaning of time
A little like how it works with ******
One’s whole life caught in a swilling mist
I looked out the window and was confronted by morning mist
And I felt as though I were still in a dream
A dream in which I still had my father
And we had nothing but more time
No worries of disease or death
Living a life free from ******
But I cannot remember my dad without ******
Only wake sometimes from troubling dreams
Eyes clouded by the subconscious mist
Heart struggling with the passing time
So much has happened since his death
I have become a man without the aid of my father
Thinking back to the wild beard of my father
Dark eyes set deep in my dreams
Shrouded with the cloak of death
Standing stoic in the mist
A slave to the master called ******
A victim to the ruler of us all, time
The time had come to confront my father’s death
I peered through the mist of my memories of loss and ******
And saw my father standing as if in a dream
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