At this point, I only hope he can rest peacefully
And that a part of him has been reincarnated into an unassuming cherub.
At this point, I just hope that one day when I’m old and grey-headed
In Soho or Orlando or in Florence...
I’ll come across a young man laughing.
A young man who resembles him: his unique look, the distinctive voice, distinct laugh...
I won’t know it and neither will he.
But perhaps we’ll meet again for a split second
In another time, another place, another life...