As the last of the flowers have withered,
And the guests have washed their clothes,
The cemetery has new bodies to entomb,
I still feel your presence very close.

For every waking morning without you on our side,
Demands a tough facade for every new dawn,
With responsibilities piling our plates,
I still hear your voice, guiding us on.

At times where people have seem to forget,
And your space at the table is quietly replaced,
Things and clothes packed neatly into boxes,
I still recall how it felt in your embrace.

The world that we know will continue to revolve,
With the sun, the moon, and its skies ever so blue,
Your memory lives on in every piece of me;
I will choose to remember every piece of you.