dany bow

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Winter Mountain

Over the hill to the mountain,
in a winter month.
MY father lay with a withering flower in his hand,
darkness overcomes the sky with rain pouring down his face.
Silence.
overcoming my heart,
beating like a dead man drumming.
Fire burning on the trees in the icy lakes,
the ground as bright as a cave at night holds him.
Lying.
Dreams of him wake me up at night,
hearing him say, 'Goodnight, '
I respond, 'I Love you.'
He responds, 'I'll see you someday soon.'

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