When you were alive, you’d sit on the balcony smoking a cigarette looking at the mountains, and the trees, and the stars.
Sometimes it was three in the morning, and I’d come look at you through the window or the open door,
You couldn’t sleep and I could only imagine what your thoughts were.
Now you walk in places I can only imagine, but soon I’ll be like you, and we can talk about the times we both walked the
Earth.