The sandman smashed the hourglass
cause he's sick of time slipping by.
Dreams fill the infinite holes.
Those minutes that make up life.
Birds take to their nest, the sky darkens,
the cows all come lagging home.
The breeze picks up, the trees rustle,
the dream begins to unfold.
Standing before me, yet still out of reach,
a man, my size in height.
He traces his name into the sand.
He writes with my hand, the right.
Dark hair, dark eyes, an honest smile.
A friend in so many ways.
Most of him is gone for now,
and my memory ages with the days.
The ocean has washed his name away
and footprints are all that remain.
He brushes my cheek with his lips,
a breath of wind just the same.
As he fades with the fog that rests on the sea
at the sight of sun's early rise,
his name reappears in the sand at my feet.
My dad drifted into the skies.
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