Saturday, August 06, 2011


I can't believe still you are gone.
Wake me up from this slumber;
And perhaps, just perhaps,
I will find 'twas a mere dream.
Yet, I awake every time,
To discover,
Your presence has fled the earth;
And I startle to life,
Only to weep my heart out,
At this strange event.
Real sleep comes, but rare;
I rove the world of words instead,
Searching for ways to write my soul,
And set free,
My bleeding heart.
I know you will tell me not cry;
I know you are happy at Home;
But I cannot dismiss,
Years of memories,
For a demise.

- requiescat in pace -