You are long gone here.
So many playful banters from the sun have passed
So many shedding of flowers and skin.
But the grief won't go,
"Not yet." It said
It must be waiting.
For the doors of the heart to fully open
And
For the hands to relax to the side.
But,
I can't.
Because if I do that,
If I look back,
If I let sentimentality win,
The tears will flow
and
We have to bother Noah again.
So
I'll still stick to this.
My ink will communicate what I should've said when you went.
Let my writing substitute for the wailing others did.
This is my gift
and
My penance.
Happy Birthday, Ate Tina.
We have so much to talk about.
I hope your lunches are better than the 7/11 slop.
I'll look for you soon.
