July 29, 2012

Island









Sitting around a cafe table,
after a day at sea,
I can feel Papa's style,
casting a spell on me.
Simple words
in a clear pool,
he fished us all so well,
knowing we have
to go alone
to the island in the stream,
where everything is truer,
though not always
what it seems,
where fish always bite,
words forever flow
like warm red wine,
his sure touch
did not miss
the subtle heart of time.

7/21/12