I Pilgrim

Desperately I hold
the memories that fade,
A wisdom grows knowing
just how they were made.

Like Shylock reaping
his pound of flesh,
wisdom replaces
those moments once fresh.

As ghosts they haunt,
dwell within my soul.
Mere shadows, they fill not
The empty gaping hole.

So as they vanish,
those specter's of my past,
I wonder aloud
of the moments that last.

The eyes of my daughters
glimpsed for the very first time,

the vows of my bride,
sweeter than the sweetest rhyme.

The face of my father
gaunt in his coffin,
I shudder most
at some ghosts more often.

Yet each is a page in a book,
I have read and know it to be,

my epic adventure,

my glorious journey!