(loss) The Grave Of My Child
It had been a long passing away.
A death that crackles the hardest stone,
He sank into the bed of this bay,
A death silent and alone.
He once frolicked through the sleepy field
Waking the insects on the grass.
Bare-foot, to the seashore yield
To dance with a moonlit lass.
He was my child, my dear,
Who never let it pass him by,
Always sat at the edge of that pier,
Watching the Samurai sunset sky.
Now I stand here over his grave,
Now realising he is dead.
And there are fireflies over the wave,
Spelling a poem left unsaid.
They wait for him,
Thinking he's just asleep,
From the ocean deep.