Father

Father, can you lift me from this edge?

The hands I felt, the grip would melt to a silver pair

But some time, in a place far from here, I fear

There’s a future where ambition is a shaking shivering stare

And you’ve lost all senses, but you taste those wasted years

Father, please forgive me so

I’d spend those nights, in the orchards, and write to a girl

I’d wait for hours, building her towers

And I’d find a series of stars for her balcony

All for those villa lights, below, and alone in the hills

Father, there’s an ache in my head

There’s a space in my bed, where I will not rest

I’ve gone for hours, the moon’s lost its power

And I’d rather sleep where the sky’s have no keep over me

Let me float from this edge, and over those hills