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.