The memory of her face you held so dear, has gone away.
That gentle caress that calmed your fears, has gone away.

Heavy onslaught, clouds of cinder made a brume above.
The stars in the sky that navigate frontiers have gone away.

Bleach white canvas, metaphorically cleans the slate.
The painted past, the way your brush veers, have gone away.

Empty your pockets, invoke everything, give it your all.
The energy, desire, the charisma and cheers, have gone away.

Skyscrapers tall, city streets, flashy lights and cars.
Thousands of trees, tranquillity, forests for years, have gone away.

Crippling car crash, broken soul, fingers were frozen.
Their musical genius, a symphony for the ears, have gone away.

I Mr. B, take nothing for granted, for life is far too short.
Countless walls of whom etched “I was here”, have gone away.

© B. D. Caissie