Look at him, in a square chamber.
Smiling as though with no troubles
looking at me with those sparkling bubbles
of his eyes, ‘take your time do not stumble’;
he would say. How I wish I would have read his bible.
No he is gone, eternal slumber.
‘It rang’, why not pick up the phone?
‘It stopped’, why not return the call?
If he did, would I have not been alone?
I am now left with wonders of the unknown.
It feels surreal, but like a disclaimer,
his absence shutters me.
I am left with forsaken memories.
this portrait? Is like that from a century,
because this is not how he would look me.