In His Memories…

two hands
(c) Google image search

Now that he was gone, his fragrance was felt no more,

his voice seemed like a distant past, yet his memories alive in the heart’s core.

That bright winter morning, that chair, that hot cup of tea,

where nanu sat drinking, with his arms around me.

That brown scarf, that old sweater; the ones he always picked,

made him look the same every time; his ancient gold watch somewhere still ticks.

Now that he was far gone, my smile too faded away,

time spent with him seems like a merry-go-round, yet there was so much to ask, there was so much to say.

The summer sun comes alone. Pray! How am I to bear?

Seeing in the dull morning, his dusty dry chair?

And his old woolen sweater, I hold with tears running down my cheeks,

brings back his fragrance anew, he is who my swollen eyes seek.

Now that he was far gone, gone was the hand which taught me to walk,

which now would have wanted to wipe my tears, which now would have wanted me to stop.

And be the person of strength and will, be strong to stand head high on a hill.

Be tough to walk a thousand miles, be all alone, yet smile and shine.

For him will i be brave all along, and all that he was will never be gone.

(In the memories of my beloved grandfather)

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