Is tomorrow enough?
It has to be,
Today is almost gone you see,
Yet here I linger,
Alone at last,
My memories repeat the past,
The moon does rise,
Still I am inspire,
Embracing my muse,
Thou I am tired,
In the dark
I smoke,
I wait for the day
I will meet tomorrow….
Unafraid
©B L Costello 2016

There's my father
sitting on the couch
slowly dying
slowly falling
into
modern traps

End table is
covered with snack bar
wrappers
Can of cheap beer
but at least he used a coster

There's my father
watching the TV
Feeling life never
gave him his chance
his break

Left behind in the wake
of that which he did
not create

Pictures of the past placed
on the wall behind him
A monument of a life
that's not what it seems

There's my father
Absorbed in reruns and
political commentary

This couch is his coffin
This house, his cemetery

There's my father
that role model of mine
lost within his failures
static in time

It's a beautiful thing
When he begins to sing
He can have my heart
He can have anything
It's a beautiful thing
When he begins to sing
He can hold my heart
He can have all of me

Far beyond the mountains
With their gossamer tiped peaks
Lies that hallowed forest
Called the Wandering Woods

And within its tall shadows
Lurk a pair of watching eyes
Solemn and distant
As the moon of the day

Every night a deep fog
Rolls in over the hills
Blanketing the forest
And the surrounding area

Come morning the woods are gone
Transported somewhere
In that vast expanse
beyond the towering mountains

They say on a journey long ago
A man walked into the woods
And conversed with the being
Who watches from afar

And he has not since returned