Like a guideless plane in the clouds,
I struggle to see my father again,
Everything is but a fade,
Not one trace
Was made at his leave;
Here where teddy bears are lost,
And only needles can numb the pain.
Behind my mother
Is a trunk,
Which she shields every eye from.
Licked by a sudden desire,
To stitch back together all that was lost,
I search for a way to peek inside that latched box.