Beneath

Lying on the floor
The world passes me by as
I try to let it

Winter shore winds blow
Swirling my daughter’s hair as
We search for sea glass

Rising from my tea
White threads of heady vapor
Clear the dross of sleep

Dusk in the forest
Eerie tendrils of blue light
Draw me in deeper

Old memories found
In the back of the closet
Hiding in the gloom

In a copse of trees
Entwined in vines, a slowly
Rusting tricycle

His smile hangs askew,
while unseen tribulations
rent rifts in his soul.