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My father’s eyes,
Those deep arctic pools,
Are brimming with
Childhood ghosts.

His graying lashes do nothing
to fend them off.
They swim through
radio waves,
tucked in the sweep
of Debussy's dreams.
They dive from films
in the trill of
rapid gunfire.
An infant cries and
Cannonball!
Water washes over
And leaks
Down aqueducts
Of wrinkled grooves.

When our eyes meet
the phantoms shade his gaze.

He sees not me,
but every child
he’s known and held

who grew up

and fit no longer
in his arms.
©2009 ~emberlily
:iconemberlily:

Author's Comments

BRUNOOOOO

Comments


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:iconcrazy-diam0nd:
hey your author's comment doesn't subtract from the emotional impact of the poem at all.

--
"We all need love. Love brings us joy and well-being. It is as natural as the air."
~Thich Nhat Hanh
:iconcrazy-diam0nd:
oh and also I love it :)

--
"We all need love. Love brings us joy and well-being. It is as natural as the air."
~Thich Nhat Hanh

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January 5
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