I was eleven when the world broke,
when your voice faded from the house
and a silence larger than me remained.
The days went on,
but no longer with your steady steps,
no longer with your hands guiding mine.
At night I close my eyes
and there you are, Dad:
sometimes you smile,
sometimes you just look at me without speaking.
I dream of you because in dreams
there are no goodbyes,
there I can still run to you,
feel that you never truly left.
But when I wake, the bed is cold,
the house grows heavy with your absence,
and I am still that child
who learned too soon what it means to lose.
I search for you in the air, in gestures,
in every memory I keep like a treasure.
And though you are gone,
I carry you within me like a lighthouse,
like the unseen root
that holds my life together.
-
Author:
Lore (
Offline) - Published: September 24th, 2025 05:29
- Category: Sad
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Bragee
Offline)
Comments3
A major loss reflected in this poem leaves a vacum and hole as a remembrance and peace can only be found in dreams. Wistful is the feeling as well as melancholy. Nicely done
This folds memory and dream together so well…the child who learned loss too soon, the lighthouse image that keeps him steady, and that quiet line about no goodbyes. It’s tender, precise, and deeply real. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you
as a father with two young daughters this one really hits home for me and reinforces the importance of fatherhood. I am sorry for your loss.
❤️
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