Guarding like a totem, as my remnant
His highlander-bottle keeps watch:
The legacy of paternal inheritance.
The whiskey-hollow harmonic echoes
Ageless from the neck of its dry riverbed.
But the man stands tall, peripherally, on the shelf.
A blind gaze as solemn as one last breath.
He attracts dust while his old notes nestle
In the ears of the dead, captured
Only in the memory of ashes.
So together they remember, pulseless:
That booming, stubbled laughter, that gulping thirst.
He watches as it lurks within the veins.
The path is carved out in the family tree,
To be repeated like a shared prophecy –
My birthmark from the first schism.
Only rose-falls close the lifelong call.
Too soon we dull with Sunday bells tolling
To decay with our unshakeable faults,
Bearing them like gifts for an afterlife.