The grey sky,  

the clouds, the drizzling raindrops, the swaying branches,

the noise of wind, the wet leaves, the rhythm of the day.

The finches fly, to and fro building nest upon the tree top,

How high is high for them to be safe

If not the predator, the nature – branch will sway

Yet they brave…

The weather, the life, the crazy dark world,

Do they overthink or live by their base word,

Of the old road today, I ponder wondering if it’s still there or washed off by thunder…

The muddy puddles, the water rolling down the gutter,

The rock built pavements, the lamppost that shutter,

The tiny flowers on the grass bed, the Gomes left out and forgotten,

The quiet old neighbourhood, the lonely lanes with the breeze that chatters,

Yet I feel the warmth around the glowing light,

The hand that holds mine, around me and far a little,

She walks with me holding the torch,

I follow her like an insane soul,

Not wanting to know what future holds,

I love her for sure and know it will last,

For she holds my forehead and places the kiss that’s last…

Ah! we are here, she says with a smile,

Standing close to her grave my heart unwinds,

Wrapped up still in her, scent of her being..

I bid my good byes to her for another one last time ….