Not enough of warm and watching days
where corners kept his fears at bay;
cold instead are those fading hands
that held his children soft and sound
like the hum of summer’s evening wind.
Where clouds met like cracks
of singing thunder strikes
from opposite ends of sky
crashing in, out, and under
to find in the other a better life.
Only to fade in a rumbling distance
five years later
leaving him dripping
running for the cover of his car
weeping, hiding his silent sobs
from two daughters too young to understand
and driving slowly through flowing streets
away from thunder
away from summer
with his heart all but gone.
