27112014 Dear Tom

A poem.

27112014
Dear Tom

Sometimes I love to listen
to the waves crashing down upon the shore,
the sound and way those waters glisten,
to me it is something more.
But now I only hear that voice, you are the way the ocean shines,
it is not so great a feeling and draws my face in salty lines.

These days I rather tend to focus on the rocks,
crumbling and drowning, eventually they will have decayed
as victims of the tidal knocks
all men are soon to fade.
Then why do I mourn you, little boy, rather than discard you at a whim?
The answer is not so hard to see: for I was meant to teach you not to swim.

I still remember all those days watching you paddle about close to the deep,
always worried, I never stopped trying to make you be a turkey with me on the sand
but you always went back out further, called like by the need for sleep
and whenever you saw colourful fish that were not there at all, I always held your hand.
Looking back now for the reward it I got it was not even hard,
because you were worth it all my friend, when I was your lifeguard.

I still regret the day my lips unsealed,
the blame still lies not with him but only in myself,
watching your flight saw all my sadness feeled,
and since that day your necklace has been forever on my shelf.
They took you to a place where men are kept from water
and although I could no longer help and she could no longer see you, remember your sister was “happy… sorta”

Yet we all knew that you would break, knew that you would run,
it still scared and surprised me when you did
like me you could not stand the sun
and in waters with fake fish was just where you hid.
I was told you made it… only to the road,
left barely recognisable after some oversized load.

Your mother called me in the night,
I thought she sought my strength,
but it was truly she who lent to me her might
and comfort was her gift at length.
In the end she told me to be happy, she told me not to worry,
but I had failed you, her son, and being useless me all I had was sorry.