She told me that he came from faraway, somewhere that I have never been, where the ocean meets the ocean , and the mountain meets Heaven's white flames.
His youthful days were surely filled with racing hearts, though tall and slender, now he stands, Wisdom be the image that the mirror sees.
He stroked my hair, In a gentle heartfelt way, as if to say I am of him.
Even between the rubble he found comfort, but from whence he came, on pure white linen was where he laid.
They say he searched both far and wide, just to find his lost, pure, Veronica Pearl.
She had walked beyond her lines, with innocence visibly upon her skin, her smile that be a father’s lifelong memory.
The stripes upon his shoulders revealed to him the way, like an eagle he flew that day, a diamond beneath the cold dark soil, there is where he found her ray.
And there is where he stayed, they say, until the skies were parted, his footprints were never seen again, by his broken hearted.
On the bed it laid, the cowboys’ joy, brown and worn, when he still took off his crown, like a gentlemen should, as the old song played, fifteen years ago and I still feel the same, the record player turned, to the broken pieces, of an ageing heart.
His footsteps may no longer be, but I still see him there, through the eye of my mother’s heart.