Saturday, March 9, 2013


We talk. We eat. We sleep.
We walk down the road along the morning breeze,
We argue. We fight. 
I can still see you in the morning light.
They say none of these are real
Ignorant, they don't see the truth
You live in my existence,
your existence, a truth the world doesn't want to believe.
I still fight to bring you back.
You exist. You do. 
Not in shadows but in real.
One year has passed since your funeral, Baba.
But I can still hear your call.

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