I can recall
A clear and pristine day
When the world was fearless, fair and wide

When I lingered, at a wise old porch
Before a sea of tall grass
And a warm and serpentine lake

There was the lone white boat
Of an estranged acquaintance
Distant, but somehow vital to me

Just before the eastern bank
She was quietly, fading in her dreams
As my heart grew fonder and fonder

But tragedy was in a hateful rush
And I only grew older
Fading, as the dark skies loomed

The lone white boat rowed homeward
In the cross-hairs of the storm,
The nearer she drew
The deeper, into frailty I slipped

Tragedy was in wait for her
As she rowed on defiantly
With the great zeal of viking’s adrift

Charging up, the wet western banks
Across the green marshes
For the fathering blaze of a hearth

Where tragedy had taken my place
When I could not remain
I was folded, in mortality’s embrace

Just before I could arise
To meet the tearful eyes
Of a daughter, I had hardly known
As if, from a life I had lived