but stuffy, stoic you,
you had no words
and looked at me
that day when we both knew
about the end
another life
was being snuffed by God
the King of Nerds
around the bend,
received the final nod.
You never cried,
of that I’m sure
all smiles were hidden well,
you did abide
(there was no cure) ,
stayed deep within your shell.
I shall not weep
here at your grave,
a chip off the old block,
no tears will seep
from sons so brave
but you may hear a knock
as heels I click
just in the nick
of the allotted span.
You taught me well
when I was small,
but now I am a man.
Some day, I too
shall lounge like you
and catch the morning sun
in restless dreams
wherein it seems
that life is never done.
And, now and then,
no telling when,
a visitor will stay
or just walk by
but will he cry?
It’s very hard to say.