The Day That Nadia Died
I could tell you, Pip, that when you were born,
I loved you like I was loved by grandpa Orne.
I could tell you that there was nothing more perfect,
Than your little feet, and your tiny toes, and that might depict
That Pip, I could tell you I loved you if Nadia hadn't died;
I could tell you I loved you if she had lived to see her son, how I cried.
I could tell you now, that I loved you for nine months,
That you taught me faith in the unseen, the intangible at oneth.
But how can you love your wife's slayer?
How can you be forgiven, if not thru prayer?
Oh, who am I kidding, Pip. You fixed me.
You are the most beautiful risk among thee.
Only you had the ability to sink my heart and raise my stomach,
And vice versa, only you could do that, from the low abyss to the highest hummock.
Pip, when you grew so did I, so did those around you,
You created joy when there was death and laughter when I was blue.
And if Jesus couldn't come thru, If the almighty Lord himself couldn't save,
There is a power in you that rubbed on me, a power that I will take to the grave.
Because Pip, only you could make happiness realm-wide.
Only you could bring joy, on the day that Nadia died.
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