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.