Slippery were the rocks
the current strong and silent
to the unsuspecting.

A language I came to understand.
I lived on the banks
where weeping willows stretched out,
to cool the waters in the hot summer days.

Against abstract visions of Spanish moss,
that hinged itself around and connected
the flourishing life, that can be heard
in a slow Southern draw;
from a rocking chair on a wooden porch.

Ode to reverence.
Ode to reverence.

In your June bugs singing,
and butterflies winging,
with your fallen stars alight,
scattered in the fields of these Southern nights.

The things that leave me scarred,
and remind me of your intriguing graces.
That took me to those foreign places
far away from river life.

The things a man should be
were all the things you saw in me.
But I could never come alive.

In the sounds of your Father's coves,
that saw the black water running,
through my veins and thought for you,
a better life some place East and far from me.
So, I stood away so you could not see
all the broken pieces of me;
As I watched you board the train.

Whispers of a dragonfly
were all the words I could not hear;
lost beneath a summer sky
Yet, boldly I refused that fear.

No words did I chose to find
to answer the whistle's blow.
Only the sound left behind
drowning in the undertow.

Keep you in still waters My Love.
I will be where the current runs strong.
Remember the kiss of summer sweet
as you sing your water lily's song.