Here I am, sitting beside you.
Looking at the birds, the sky, the grass, the red and white roses.
I can see that beacon so far away,
And almost expect you to get up, gimme that look and say,
"I'll beat you this time, bro. Watch it!"
I look at that mango tree.
And somewhere inside there's an upsurge of pain.
We'd planted it together, some eighty years ago.
We used to walk up to it, everyday we'd go.
I can see both of our farmhouses, next to each other.
I can see both of our grandchildren, playing with each other.
Both your son and my son, take care of me.
Your son is doing fine, he's as good as can be.
(Or he's outdone you, maybe.)
Marge won't speak, once you were gone.
Call her up there, inspite of everyone around she feels alone.
And while she is here, Kate and I will be with her.
(How I wish all of us could be together!)
And here she comes, with Kate by her side.
You remember her eyes?
Those beady and blue..
I see flashes of grey and pain,
As I look into them.
She doesn't come out,
But for our little gatherings like this.
We sit around you, staring at the grey stone.
Nobdy talks, we sit in silence.
While I silently reminisce old times.
And I try to think so loud.
(It's almost like shouting.)
That you may hear it.
But you don't respond.
Kate and Marge walk back.
I sit for a little while more,
A little more time to spend.
I haven't been myself.
You've been missing, my friend.
The birds fly back to their abodes, the sun goes down too.
And I,
With a sigh,
And a tear in my eye,
Pick up my walking stick, walk back, and wait till I die.
