Stubble mushrooming his chin <br />he showed up on the door <br />without his trademark grin <br />he looked clearly sore. <br /> <br />He motioned me to sit on a chair <br />in the room with low watt light <br />his sullen stare and disheveled hair <br />said things weren't alright. <br /> <br />I sat in the embarrassing silence <br />thinking what might be the cause <br />what lay behind the simmering suspense <br />why my friend looked so morose. <br /> <br />There wasn't a sound in the whole house <br />the creepy stillness was deafening <br />with only the clock ticking sleepy hours <br />carried the night on its wing. <br /> <br />Sensing something was definitely wrong <br />gauged from his eyes swollen red <br />his father I knew was ailing for long <br />surely he was mourning the dead. <br /> <br />Where's uncle I set words in pace <br />long time I haven't him heard <br />making a dispassionate face <br />he pointed his finger upward. <br /> <br />So proved true my worst fear <br />the son was mourning the demise <br />everything was now clear <br />my shock I couldn’t disguise. <br /> <br />For you what a terrible blow <br />so early for him to have gone <br />my words poured sad and slow <br />may his soul rest in heaven. <br /> <br />My friend now spoke in awed face <br />I couldn’t miss his perturbed glare <br /> <br />My father is fine God bless <br />he is only resting upstairs!<br /><br />Pradip Chattopadhyay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rest-in-heaven-2/
