Up Among Clouds
How I wish I could have cuddled,
all the nuggets and wisdom
he gave me through his lifetime---
but some went in the autumn anvil
and out the other ear ,and got
away somewhere in drifting smoke.
Since then, as the years passed by
they came as ghosts of remorse,
and the time I spent whistling to the birds
did not make it easier in the spaces
of the heart. I know, know.
Most of Dad's promptings built my will
and has buttressed my youthful days
embracing them in times of doubt---
now, I find myself meandering alone
recalling how tender his voice was,
a spirit whistling beyond holy ghost's clouds.
I Ain't Afraid Of No Ghosts
Contest of Casarah Nance
6 June 2016
Copyright © Noel Onat | Year Posted 2016
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