One hundred and one times I track
His presence, absence and time trails
I was with him when I was born
It was to his shadow that I held on
When the soul train arrived yet again
But meanwhile, silence rains on tintop ringer tones
Emptiness presses bubble wraps
Of boredom
Waiting at the window side,
Night turns to day and all the stars fade
I was with him when each day was a living death,
With him when daily death silenced life
But as I turn back in daylight for him
One hundred and one shadows remain.
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