Kiss away my ghosts...

June poetry number twenty-four..

Kiss away my ghosts..

 

The saddest man on the block drank alone. He write sleeping man poetry and he drink the "Quiet man"  whiskey.  He was once insane, wild and foolish. He befriended many good men and good women. Now he is older, slower and he don't seek new voices.

He drinks to good friends, who never came home, and he drinks to the people he loved and he misses now. Once he wanted to save his world and he learn. Can't save a damn world seeking war and death.

He caressed a necklace of deer skin and white crystal. He remembered the old Apache on the ridge on the fault lines of California in the Fall of 1992. He told him. Even Captain Jack couldn't win. He was killed off by his own warriors. Some men don't love the land, some men don't love the sea and some men forget. Every soldier killed. Was some mama baby. All we can do. Is the best we can. Be kind.

The whiskey tasting good tonight and the music is sweet. He poured the whiskey into a large glass and poured a small glass of water. He whispered to no-one. Hemingway and Jack London. When did you have enough?

Today five grandchildren voices keeps him going and he wondered. When the whiskey isn't strong enough and the children forget the old man face. Can he find the sea again? Maybe dance with her and allow her cold water to caress his feet.

The grandchildren love their grandpa. They try to kiss his ghosts away with their laughter. He hold his baby grand-daughter Mia. She had fallen asleep in his arms. He told the day.

One more day, I need.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.