Broken

Each night, as my father sat
in the dimly lit room in front
of the dancing fire,
The sweet smell of his cigar
tangled with the smoke
from the burning oak branches,
His face stern, as the orange flicker
playfully danced across his face,
She watched him.
Her face lightly touched with time
It's hands gently on her skin.
Her eyes a deep emerald green pierced
his core like pins and needles.
I watched two bodies, silent.
Like the hanging constellations.
In flesh and body,
we three are a whole like
the petals of a rose:
Each untouchable
and each alone.