Weaving

I sat at her feet, as she threaded strands,

Piece over piece of my tangled red hair,

Wove it into a braid, secured it there.

Now, father weaves, as we silently stand,

The silence of loss, betrayal despair,

Fills him as we stand together, a pair.

She put in flowers as she showed me dreams,

I wove it myself, with new found self-care-

The dreams she wove, at a touch, weren't there.

The next time she left, it wasn't so bad,

We were a team my young father and I

Together we strove, we claimed all the sky

I braid my own hair, now a simple task,

My father and I, we walk together.

Holding our breaths, the edge of forever.