SEA DREAMS

May has fled and stolen my father
June creeps by on wintered feet and Spring has yet to show
Hoary frost ghosts the ground
And blasts lingering leaves from the trees
Through Summer and early Autumn my father waited
Eyes fixed on horizons not visible to us
Conversation was hard, his breath nearly spent
Sucked out by his dreadful, beloved smokes
I cannot see him, even now without one
Eternally in his hand, blue haze drifting.

Poetry was his joy in life, his gift to me
I looked through his books the other day
A marker showed some favourite lines
'I must go down to the sea again'
He's gone, my sea-dreaming father
On a voyage we all must travel.
He cast off one morning whilst we
In our ignorance, tip-toed softly to let him sleep

He set sail for places more distant than time
Without a backward glance for those on shore
He left behind the shackles of a worn-out body
And a family to mourn and grieve his going
My father is dead. he is dead.
His chair is empty, a book unfinished nearby
His coat and hat hang yet by the door but he has gone

Winter will lift and Spring will come once more
Grey, lowering clouds will part on azure tinted skies
And I will still be here
I am here and as long as I live and read and dream
My father lives