Your memory is a battle between fantasy and fiction.
See the truth is I don’t really know,
all I remember is the photograph’s depiction.

I was only a small child when you got sick.
I was too young to understand,
that you were beginning the burning of your life’s wick.

As you began to get more tired, and ignore my pleas of play.
I tried to question you,
but you simply said not today.

Little did I knew a day would turn into a week,
then a week would turn into a month or two.
You told me everything would be okay, and kissed me upon my cheek.

You did your best to hide the pain,
but I managed to catch a sneak.
On your face wore the lines of strain.

As the years wore on, my heart just continued to break.
I couldn’t stand to just sit there,
I couldn’t see you in pain, it was the one thing I couldn’t take.

Even though I was still young,
I had to come to realize there was nothing I could do.
No matter how much it stung.

As I begin to grow up, I realized one thing.
You wouldn’t be there, anymore.
Not for anything.

Though this hurt more than any other belief,
I knew I must enjoy all the time you had to give to me,
for your time here was brief.

They day you passed I couldn’t believe.
All the pain that destroyed inside me,
I had begun to grieve.

Then I had a single thought.
Even though you knew what would become of you,
You had fought.

To the world I whispered a quiet thank you,
For it had shown me you were once a fighter,
And inside me there lay one too.

Hold on now, your time isn’t yet.
Think about all those blissful memories,
Not your past filled of regret.

For your past you must learn to endure,
its done and over with.
Hold your head high and keep your honor.

No one has ever said life was easy,
It’s a difficult struggle and troublesome fight.
But hold on for the wild ride, even if you get a little queasy.

Don’t lose hope now for happiness will always come.
Remember, there is always tomorrow.
The pain you are able to overcome.

Stand up now, you can choose to fight.
Put everything you have into life,
Even if you can’t see the day’s light.

Life is not always about the challenging pain,
You will see joy again.
Your life’s a kingdom and its time for your reign.

Follow your dreams and remember to listen to your heart.
Life is what you make of it.
Its time for a change now get ready to start.

I was just a young girl, carefree and wild.
Rebellion constructed in my beating heart.
I was exploring the thick bushes, an Indiana Jones to be.
When I found a dead birdie, I fell apart.

I hurried to my daddy as tears trickled from my innocent eyes.
I pointed to the fallen creature and asked how this could be?
He ran his rough hand through my blonde curls, and pulled me in his lap.
He began to whisper,
a secret just between my daddy and me.

"Dear sweet Tristan, please understand.
That birds in a better place now, he's being watched over by a man.
He can fly freely through the clouds, a spirit meant to soar and never be found."
Though I didn't know what my daddy had just said.
I lie in his arms and fall asleep.
That fallen birdie fluttering throughout my head.

And now today, my dad's no more.
He went to a better place, his boat no longer ashore.
Though now I finally understand, what my dad had told me all those years ago.
My dad is just like a fallen bird. He can never again be found his spirit meant to soar.

The sun painted streaks of bewitching brightness across the fading sky.
Its warmth was false; a thunderstorm was threatening to break.
A lone man stood his hair in ruin, around his neck lie a loosened tie.  

The falling autumn leaves spread around his torn shoes.
The clouds above cracked and thunder shook the earth.
His life lay scattered in the blackened hues.

His memories crashed around him in heartbroken picture shows.
Her laughs and smiles all gone now.
He’d been burnt in the storm, but no new life was going to grow.

The torture spun around his heart, its thread a deadly barbwire.
Its agony bent on destroying him.
Swallowing him in a web of despair and fire.

Her memories came with the scent of fresh cut roses.
A face that could have outshined any star.
In his palm rests a velvet box, a proposal ring it encloses.

He laid that velvet box upon the ground,
it was too late now.
She was no longer around.

The clock was ticking and the alarm had rang.
There was no time left destiny had called her away.
A weeping ballad he sang.

Now there is just an empty shell.
A hallow of a man once alive.
To you he bids his last farewell.

His opened his swollen eyes and fixated on the simple headstone grave.
His wife buried in a coffin covered in once crimson roses.
In heartache he drowned, himself he never forgave.

What is life?
A question I ask.
Is it the birth of a baby?
Or when you overcome a task.

The growth of a flower?
So beautiful and strong.
Your first broken heart?
Where everything had gone wrong.

All the time you lost?
Doing hours of pointless things.
Watching birds soar?
Wishing for their wings.

Disobeying your parents?
Just to do something dumb.
Failing a test?
You couldn’t find the sum.

Falling in love?
With the one you couldn’t bear to lose.
Staying up all night?
Worrying about the day’s news.

Life is all these things.
There is no answer, right or wrong.
Life’s a mystery.
Just hope it lasts long.