after my Father died my Mother began writing poems spelling out her pain one letter at a time making the earth move beneath her feet so she could breath again

I never wrote a poem until I fell into love and all of a sudden the shoreline was mad for the ocean and the waves kept pounding mindlessly wanting to release life into her

all the years of pain and love and destruction stored up inside words written in ancient, exotic languages waiting to be translated and released a strange bile of life waiting to love and be loved again

I've been trying to make father and dad rhyme
But dad has the essence of holding and never letting go
and father is some one who writes you letters after years of no speaking
Dad is some one who held you when you scraped you knee
And father is someone you only remember seeing once, and it was very cold that day
Dad is some one you talk to
and Father only wrote you one letter and you are 16
Dad is someone who you fight with, but you love him
and father is someone you will never know
Maybe its best that I can't rhyme sentiment and hopelessness
*Present and absent will never coincide with each other
Because my dad is not an antonym
And my father will never be a simile

She walks in beauty, like the night
     Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
     Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
     Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
     Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
     Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
     How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
     So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
     But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
     A heart whose love is innocent!