Knowing (a fathers spirit abides with his daughter)

I will see you, playing your guitar beneath the osier tree,

I will rest and listen,

As my thoughts float past 

With no real purpose,

Until you start to sing:

Then, this rock face will become vitreous,

Each emotion will burn tediously,

From heart to face,

Unable to touch you,

I will likely break.
And yet this will not be our closing,

For you’ll walk on, collecting seashells in a rattan basket,

You’ll laugh as they rattle like skeletons dancing,

With your feet sinking in the sand.

And just like the sea escaping,

Eventually this yearning will subside,

As wilfully as the tide,

Leaving only love,

And the contentment of knowing.


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