Listen, do listen
The muse in the air...
The times we had and stories that we shared,
when I did almost drown in waters deep...
I looked at a picture of us when we were young.
I was 7 and you were 5...
Coming home, here,
breaks through every layer of brick...
To be called a dad
holds such a magical sound...
Burn me once, shame on you.
Burn me twice, shame on me...
Little nose
Little hands...
Upon a crystallized morn
you were born unto me...
A faint memory of a warm simple kiss,
A gentle press of one's lips...
Forest green needles
Hanging high in the sky...
A soothsayer I am not,
I cannot foresee your fate...
I miss your giggle.
I miss your sweet smile...