SLAM!

My entry::::

Reaching Heaven

The news dropped like an axe on a chopping block--
Dad’s life pruned away by the curt scythe of death.
I bled profusely through rivulets of salted water,
wondering aimlessly around my shattered childhood.

I found myself at the big, red truck out back;
One of three Dad owned for the firewood business.
It sat in the long grass, alone and forlorn,
Making it just the right match for me.

I climbed up on that truck, as high as I could go,
To sit cross-legged on top of the cab;
A place no one thought to look for a child.
There I freed my tears to dry on a timeless wind.

Day after cheerless day, I visited the red truck,
Taking pen and paper for heartbroken scribbles,
And Dad’s old binoculars to look past my own torment...
Alone with my sorrows, but remembering the joys.

With those magical glasses I spied out the land,
Right to the mountain, and where the trains ran.
I wanted to run away, so I planned a route
Choosing the easiest path and safest hideaways.

I never needed to put those childish plans into action
For my safest refuge was there all along.
That old roof, so safe and strong like my Dad
Made me feel I could reach up and touch heaven.

Invalid Item  This item number is not valid. #1116027 by Not Available.