The loss

He sat on the verandah, unfailingly,
anxiously looking at the exterior door,
awaiting my arrival home.
And nothing would deter him ever,
no weather, no time,
no rhyme nor reason.
And when I appeared at the door,
comfort would uplift his face.
Then like a lion did he roar:
‘Why so late…,
gone haywire…?
Or you forget the way back home?’
And I would enter silently
mumbling explanations.
Then, one late evening,
stars shivered in the deep above
and were concealed,
in the vicious mist of clouds.
And suddenly the night breeze went ablaze.
Now, when in a  late evening
I return home and open the door
none ever scolds me for being late.
No one is at the verandah,
none ever is at the gate.
As my old man, who cared for me…,
is no more….
And the immense dark night follows in,
more immense without him.