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And his name is Moses
His father named him Moses.
Devoid of speech yet blessed.
Doctors said he would live thirty years hereafter.
Buoyant nature and carried a smile always,
With sense of humor lived through derision.
On the day his father passed away
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Not long, few years later
His mother who would voucher him,
Understand the complexity of his heart
Laid on her final resting place,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Later his bosom friend moved away,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Enervate and lonely orphan he became,
Dolefully he wept when none would see.
Albeit the great sorrows of his heart,
No trauma ceased him to live mirthfully.
After thirty still he lives.
And walking through the paseo every morning,
They who pass him by with admiration schmoose of a man
Who can’t speak and had great sorrows;
Nonetheless so twinkly he lives on,
Knowing not yet parfay wishful,
when he would wake up one fine morning
And meet his loved ones again on the other side.
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