My father’s spirit long gone
But departed not from us, tis herewith
Flowers rot when they are done
Done, with life, they escape from herewith.
My father’s grave had stones ,white
Someday I would add flowers wild and gay
Not one more life be lost in a flight
One more life, I keep at bay.
His face contoured with a known grimace,
He would not leave when all was fresh
Leaning against my window was a face
Or an illusion caught in a mesh.
Spirits do not die ,they reincarnate
My culture says “older spirits do not,”
Yet fathom- me- not ,says the Incarnate
But verily flowers do rot..
The last of his faces wore a smile
He was as free as a lark
Spirits do not die
They hover around white tiles ,till they sit at the park.