Father (Come Back!) (Poem by Scotty Fitzgerald)

"Father, father, do you hear me?" I called to you. As the ocean curled in its rigid paces, Laced with linen foam, "You must be there?" you cannot be gone, You shouldn't have gone so far, "Do you hear all I say?" The water rolled in the leaving wind, The water fell in blue falters, The water twined, glistening, as sunlight, Obscured night, I called to you from the surf of the shore, As the sand laid golden in the soft glowing midday, As the year you were birthed in the month of May, "Oh, father, father." I cried out to you, For as through hope you'd whisper as the coming breeze, In hope you would never leave, In truth, burned to ash you were, And made of dust you were born, But as the stars dimmed faraway, And became mute with Mars, You were a burning ember in the dark, "Father, father," hear me, I stand with the ocean water sinking me beneath the Earth, You fly away with velvet feathered wings, As you comb through slender light, O' then, O' then, as you slipped from my frail fingers, And memories broke as gilded glass, Though you had much more worth than bleeding silver, As I lost you, Father, The water of the earth, The lakes and seas, The vast oceans, The dew in the faint morning, Ran dry, dry as the desert grew, With shattered grounds, And hot suns, As then, as then, you went away, In the month of May, the month of May, And light went mute, and my throat grew tight, And desperation came in droplets of sweat, Fear was near, with a clenched fist, But to stand on your second home, "Father, father," Do you hear me? A glimpse of you right there with green eyes aglow, With the sun now shining and linen foam to hem to your wings, "Father, father," please come back, Come to me from a descent from the silver clouds mended in gold silk, Come to me as the roses bloom in Spring, But do not make me wait until it is too late, For my heart had broken in a thousand tremors, And everyday is passing away as the deaths of people, "Father, father," I cry to you, As tears of blue, Flow in dancing rivulets from my eyes, "Father, father, return to me," Come from the bright horizon and fall with light, Bring me from my knees, Bring me to from the ice of below, As I have turned cold, And have grown old, Bring me, bring, me from my feet, To stand on a rise, As the dawn is above, "Father, father," I yelled, "Come back to me."
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BEAR IN MIND! Two posts were posted at the same time, this and an article by Lady Grace. Be sure to check out Lady Grace's article!