Moribund

Stock in the qurgmire of the runway Chains of reactions appreciating within my loins, Streams of memories mumbling My heart knitted to his moribund imagery As i stoop on my kneel conquering my imagiantions, But the mighty wings of the dark cloud touch my lips, O Lord , not again My thoughts stood between my mouth, i mumble the unspoken words but the heaven turn deaf ear In the corner of my heart, i slip into his room, beaming at his pic, as a migthy ocean cascaded from my eyes It was a hot afternoon, i was just eighteen but i could tell a girl from a woman, but i couldn't tell if grandpa was asleep or gone This day, i sat on his moribund chair, the exact chair that dragged him out of the living.... awoh awoh... dedicated to grandpa