for Miguel
when you left
there was this delusion of white mustache
this baldness that is too consuming
for those who want
to be always young
i was then a little boy
crying on a velvet blue sofa
i was aware of what was said
from grandpa's mouth in fact
there were scribbles in my heart
like some claws of birds
you do not have to come back
to point me the way you passed
i am still aware about those pains
having loved solitude
there was this party in the house
when i was sixteen and there were hands
slapping your face and i too bleed a lot
having known you much better
on your deathbed
i am still aware of the things to come
i know the secret passage
and along the way i pick you some white flowers
it is bouquet of flowers that i must offer to you
because you understand my pains too
this is our world of pains
we exit soon only to be parted again
and we say we understand the flight of the fireflies
how their lights are drowned by the rain
how the leaves finally find solace
in the silence of utter darkness when we finally find
the truth of this existence
the life after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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