The Well

As time goes by
Complications arise
Things that seemed simple
Are now blurred
As the storm rose
I tied the boat down
You learn to compromise
Or drown

Sometimes when I talk now
I hear my father
Or the way I rest my hand
On the wheel

And when all is said and done
At the moment of the setting sun
A door is not a door is a memory
The empty table of a love that’s lost
The lace on your dress
The scuff on the toe of your boot
The light on your sleeve

We go to the well
Lower our pails into darkness
We go to the well
Fetch our water in the darkness
As time goes by