late in the evening - nearing night.
He sat afar, alone and still,
fleeting memories, nothing to feel.
"Do not sit here and weep" -
said a voice - he was thinking deep.
"I am not here darling Bob,
hold your tears and do not sob."
It was Bobby's father, he knew,
like thousand winds he blew.
"I am now the smoky cloudy train,
I am your sweet summer rain.
I am your sunny morning silence,
glowing like dew on your fence."
By now his father - ashes' heap,
the memories are forever to keep.
He sat there till morning's hush,
all around now quick uplifting rush.
The ashes in water gently flowed,
tears in water like diamonds glowed.
He turned around up the stairs,
as he finished his last prayers.
Standing there...
On the sultry morning of May,
He knew...
He would meet his Father one day.
Prasenjit©2022
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