© Jun Festin
Written on January 28, 2006
I can feel the seclusion
the pain that you feel
in this dim lighted room.
I don’t know if you are crying inside.
I melt my being melts.
Yet somehow i stand
before the dying spectacle – a farewell of you
the rhythm of high and low
the song of death it is.
I don’t know if you’re afraid at all
or are you at ease to go from here
will you not bid me goodbye
I’ll miss your touch.
Surely I will.
(a tribute to a friend who passed away)