as the world comes to an end
i'll be there to hold your hand
i'll be there to hold your hand
"Twenty-seven?" It's clear you only half-believe this. It's also clear that you now feel a bit self-conscious about your own obvious age. Running a hand through your hair, you scoff out something almost like a laugh and shake your head wistfully. "Gods, I don't think I ever looked that young." Stupid genetics, you might have thought, if you had any idea what those were.
At least he seems to like your story. Seems you've got a little bit of the gift still in you, old geezer or not. "I swam for hours, an' just when I thought my lungs'd give out and I couldn't swim no more I saw a glitterin' in the water, bright as stars. They were spires, taller'n Aumakua, risin' like monoliths from the bottom'a the sea." Your eyes are distant, your voice wistful up until the end.
And then you stumble and fade away, because this is the moment where you would have looked over your son's head at your wife and added: It was the second most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And El would stick her tongue out at you and Ray would beg you to go on and you would laugh, smiling at your family, and there would be no shadows in your home, not when they were there.
You're mostly shadows, now. The clouds that cleared from your bright face are swift enough to return; the glimpse into that man you used to be lost to the shell you are. Falling into pensive silence you turn back to the sea, and suddenly you look older than your years:: an old man hunched forward on the dock, worn and weary from hardship and work and shuttered against the sun.
At least he seems to like your story. Seems you've got a little bit of the gift still in you, old geezer or not. "I swam for hours, an' just when I thought my lungs'd give out and I couldn't swim no more I saw a glitterin' in the water, bright as stars. They were spires, taller'n Aumakua, risin' like monoliths from the bottom'a the sea." Your eyes are distant, your voice wistful up until the end.
And then you stumble and fade away, because this is the moment where you would have looked over your son's head at your wife and added: It was the second most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And El would stick her tongue out at you and Ray would beg you to go on and you would laugh, smiling at your family, and there would be no shadows in your home, not when they were there.
You're mostly shadows, now. The clouds that cleared from your bright face are swift enough to return; the glimpse into that man you used to be lost to the shell you are. Falling into pensive silence you turn back to the sea, and suddenly you look older than your years:: an old man hunched forward on the dock, worn and weary from hardship and work and shuttered against the sun.
you're a king and i'm a lionheart
ZEPH
