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.