THREE STRANDS

For my Danny...


There are three strands of hair on the pillow
That nestled your head as you slept.
Tresses that no longer lay mellow,
Along the smooth line of your neck.

Each one a remembrance of airy, sparkling days,
And of warm, cherished moments as we sat and we gazed,
At the boats as they sailed to and from austral docks.
No worries for season schedule or clocks

Now I stare at the pillow, so cold and so bare
A slate of bone-white except for the hair
I dare not disturb ‘cept to whisper this prayer

Into the night…

In this dream - these strands - live my heart, soul and thought.
Clutching your promise, eyes tight, I fancy you'll be wrought,
So once more, I might brush that sweet curl from your brow.
Overlook. Through tears, a sweet pledge – avowed.

Into the light…

Now each day you're gone, my world comes apart.
Each day I collect the bits of my heart,
Begin to patch the wraith that dwells in recall
With three strands, to plat, intertwine – never pall.

~ By E.M. McKay