He survived, before he could leave us
Nor the time came
For him to be with them
He could have departed
He remained
For he is here, with us
Sharing the same pot
Otherwise, he would have been far by now
His presence, be vacant
We would do nothing,
Rather than to socialise with his absence
In placement of his memories
Accept it as him, on his behalf of his space to us
The memoirs would be of a new start
Same replies, to where he would be
We hoped he be greeted, with warmer hands
While grim for us to anesthetize our hearts
Laying judgements, ere our wrongs
When we should come with accurate
Judgements for ourselves
