Ghosts
(John Raymond Pollard)
2005-07-16
Many times our footsteps fell together
on mud and grass, broken glass, and snow.
Many years ago I can remember
how your script was the fool,
how you sauntered so cool,
and you sunned by the pool, so long ago...
As I see you lying there in candle light, so still,
your family and friends console each other.
I feel a chill.
Can small children know?
Where did their daddy go?
The tomb's a grim stone teacher,
hard and cold.
Jim, I once was best friends with your brother.
I hadn't seen him once these past ten years.
You know, it's quite a shock when you discover
how much people change
and yet remain the same.
We grow old from the strain of all we know.
Did the wind pick up,
disturb a lake that slumbered still
and your limbs grow numb past ache
when faced with liquid chill?
The waters surround
a boat sinking down.
You do the dead man's float
to Banshee's sound.
Jim, I try to walk upon the water,
but my footsteps can't enchant the seas.
I ache for love and warmth
that I once thought were so sacred and fine;
it's aimless waves I climb.
I've never left a footprint where I've been.
Jim, the winds are silent now;
the water's standing still.
With feet torn ragged on the rocks
I face the river's chill.
Though waters surround
I vow I won't go down
As I seek the peace that you have found.
