Ode To My Father\\\'s Dancing Name

For each night, I had stood to watch my father's name dance after decades of his evaporation into the tiny winds that blew up our havens. At every mention of my father's name, his name dances in our hearts, the memories we have shared. These days, I have become more of him as I daily gaze at the mirror and the portrait of him behind the walls. My father had walked a thousand miles away from our home. From our eyes, our hands, we daily cannot behold him again. It is just like a flag in a windy day wave, he waves in our hearts. My father's name each night dance in our mouths as it has become a song we sing before placing the tired remains of our bodies at the hands of fate and as it lays on a bed of seas as tears. It is inescapable here, that in this poem, I have only come to mourn my father, Who at the early hours of that fateful morning - aroused. Death dangling, wangling along the street of nothingness, no return, no trace of his footsteps on the path as waters on the leaflets of grasses had washed out every step he had made. But as his death has wangled and dances him away from our eyes, but each night, our hearts run wide in wonder as his name dances like a waving flag haul down by every midday wind in our suburb.