this is no place for songs; songs are for heroes
and the carpets and garlands are all floating lifelessly:
a striking resemblance
of the islands —
our islands —
disappearing one by one.

this is no place for songs;
instead, you will hear the sirens screaming —
haunting the walls of your home
and you shall never again watch
and they shall never again drown.

and in the shadows, they lurk.
in the depths, they await.

save your breath for prayers,
save your words for a scream.
from the phantom waves where you'll be drowning,
gods spare not a sight.

My love is a flower,
So desperate
To cling to the dirt on her feet-
Breathing the sound of the wind,
Petals reaching
For the ghost of a sun
Long gone,
Sunken under the silhouette of
You-
Are an ocean
I ache to swallow
Afraid I’ll drown-
In your love
Is a drug
Of warmth and light,
It is all I need
In this dark-
Tonight.

I haven’t quite
Decided
Wether these veins that web my heart
Are roots
Or fault lines,
But I’m starting to believe-
That maybe
They can exist
As both.

Love, don’t be afraid
We’ve all gone places we cannot hide,
Written stories we won’t deny,
But look at us,
Living. Tonight,
Alive.

You held me in your arms and whispered,
“Baby, I’ll make you my queen,”
But darling, don’t you get it-
I don’t need your love
To make me something I already am.

Is it possibly, strange believing,
you’re somewhere else but, still here,
Not physically close by but a feeling
Is it reassurance - perhaps a  safety tier
a presence somewhat instinctive around me.

I speak to you, didn't always do,
not commonplace between us,  conversation:
sometimes there'd be an answer, from your perspective.  
Whenever now I question my determination,
a moments ponder- what might have you selected.

Character of courage and trust: ruled by fairness.
Silent belief - dignified and true,
moral sensitivities caring and kindness
None, ever, placed prominently on view,
just waiting behind your shield, for careful use in crisis.

Solitary - not seemingly lonesome but quiet,
yet, when needed around to convey
considered words, and sturdy hands to guide.
You wisely put to use, new skills, knowledge learnt,
supporting the family if required from day to day.

in thoughts is where your lingering presence exists
reminds, so much still to learn – that’s why
your story, the about you, we will want to hear,
absent physically - true,  yet in thoughts  indeed they persist,
You never left completely Dad, you’re still here.

You Are..
Michael C Crowder  @scorsby            Friday, March 8, 2019