The White Ribbon in the Wind

To Atbin. Another flick, a spark, Once more awakened the past Illustrating memories Are alive and always last. I recall your visage with Its veins, its charm, and grace Some invisible griefs, Behind of that bony face. Your tender artistic look, At a silly Rubik’s parts, Made your endless affection, dwell in our empty hearts. You were our J. Keating of Weir’s ingenious mind And that "Remembrance Fest" That you held: one of a kind. To our liveliest friend, We had toasted, and cheered But I saw a bloody band On your thin wrist appeared. You smoked and you spoke, With your own personal tone: "A dead soul would never need, All of these; to be well known, Look the living, hey kiddo! And cherish their real worth.” I stared at the white band: Accessible, open source… I thought it should be a band, You could have tied it with care Upon a pretty girl’s Glowing and blonde hair. Not as a merciless rope, Tight around the skinny neck But just like the sign of love, Danced by the wind in a lake. Hey, my friend! don’t frown, Let me exactly define, Not a regret for the dead, But as an amity sign.