To all lost fathers


To all lost fathers that ache
in watery dispense of war
long since lost in character,
I am still the boy I once was,
navy innocent to the blue unfolding,
kin smart, square quibbled.

In the pale eyes of my own father
with hearing aid and wanting more
than sermons and salty breezes
can amend before the sands
settles anew on another strand
I am a lost song, still breaking.



Poetry by Bob
Read 579 times
Written on 2007-06-29 at 22:38

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Zoya Zaidi
I love the last words:
"I am a lost song, still breaking."
(((Hugs dear Ben)))
Love, Zoya
2007-06-30