When someone dies are they really gone?

The apples in the garden miss your touch.

And the Earth it seems can't weep enough.

Forever feels more real than the rain

does. You're gone but the story

lives on in a bed

of neurons, impulses, images

with enough power to light universes.

I wish you were here but you are there

where stars like you are meant to burn

like diamonds studded in the sky,

your bright presence forever

my light, life of the night.