Marooned amidst a sea of marble crosses, you rest, in peace now.
Fond memories carved by crafted hand, etched deep in gilded gold, forsake you.
Players on a painted stage performed their ritual role.
Poisoned promises, masquerades of love.
They took what you could give, then left.
Abandoned and alone, you held your own, until the birth.
Then drop, by bright red drop, so she could live. You passed.
And as you did, the crimson flow of life coursed through her veins.
Death, vanquished by survival.
The mind masks the spirit spilling out.
You sleep, she misses, I mourn.
On better days, I hold the helm, while she rests her childish heart upon a simple cross, that guides us both across the tidal waves of life.
White beacon, buoyed in stormy seas, deliver us from evil.
- Marty Kay
God bless.
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