I won’t recite an eulogy.
I won’t sing a dirge.
For I’d owe you an apology
for this persistent urge.
My dear, you are not gone.
You are merely free.
You’ve probably moved on
from this realm of misery.
I’m still right here, thinking of you.
No matter where they say you are.
And it doesn’t matter what I do.
The truth, my dear, is you aren’t far.
I miss you, and hence I weep.
But Memories, my heart shall keep.
—Pramodh Iyer, about.me/zardy