For Dad

His hands are made of ash now
No form do they hold
No skin do they touch
No help do they lend
His eyes are shut and sleeping
And the dream is full
Of those that went before
Wide open green spaces
Filled with happiness and peace
While his ashes fill a box
Sitting atop a dusty table he once sat at
Holding court for those who miss him now
Those who defy their tears with angst
And refuse to let just his memory live
Rewind the clock
Ask him what you don’t want to know
How does the world keep spinning?
How does the sun still shine?
How does the breeze still flow?
When the hands you used to hold
Are merely ashes in the wind