He knew that nothing lasted forever.
It was just that, they needed more time together
If not a lifetime, maybe just a few years.
To postpone the tears of his dear, daughter.
And the tearing, the early parting had caused
To his son, his beloved.
Some nights, in summer
When he'd look at the sky
And see a lonely star
Trying its best to shine
With whatever strength it had left behind
Some nights, at the dinner table
He'd do the math of death:
One table, four chairs
Four chairs, three meals...
After the calculation
One was out of the equation
And then he'd come to the realisation:
The one he had loved
Was already dead.
To have the results announced,
He'd whisper to his soul:
When I was a few years old
There was that woman, I've loved
Now that I am many years old,
And she's already gone.
Now, I am many years old.
And I am cold.
It seems that the sun is not the one you see above.
It must be the one who heats your hand,
Warmer than any glove.
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