Jonathan's boat-lights fade out of sight,
noxious fumes fuse with the darkness.
I'm sinking into the soft muck...
want to gain a grip or I'll slide.
Gooseflesh runs along my spine.
Dad warned me never to go near the water.

Disputes over Dad...robbed our affections,
reducing me to a scab...
itchy and crusted over.
An urge to leap into the lake,
soften the hardness but,
Dad's loss weighs on me.
He warned me never go near the water.

A light wind triggers a decision...
my deteriorating grip becomes a tighter clutch
and caution rules the verdict.
I gather my hurts and madness,
put them away to ripen and to mend,
I kept my promise and didn't go near the water.