Purpose

It was hard to watch
the old man sitting small bent over
He railed cloaked in the anger of his grief
God, he spat. He must be crazy.
His grand design is all out of whack
It makes no sense

I see her everywhere, my wife.  I see her in
a memory a thought a shadow.  What am I without her?
No purpose no direction alone.

It was hard to hear that kind of pain.
Walking slowly picking my steps carefully
I approach him.  Holding the old man child
frail and small I become the elder
I mummur softly You are purposeful, you are my Father.

Shadows

Shadows of a pumpkin well beyond my reach
speak of barriers painful nothing one could teach

How does love find us
When we are looking overly hard
Then leave us worn and tattered
broken down and scarred

Knowing that it would be over
from the very start
Trying hard to protect the
breaking of the heart

And as it leaves the present and
crosses oceans deep are we left
clinging to the pillows of our sleep

Staring at the memory
figures on a wall
unable to draw ourselves up
to stand and face it all

As sunlight soaks the shadows and
in its fullness seen the image of his
face distant as a dream.