Where has this cold come from?/ “It comes from the death of your friend.”
Will I always, from now on, be this cold?/ “No, it will diminish. But always it will be with you.”
What is the reason for it?/ “Wasn’t your friendship always as beautiful as a flame?”
Dedicated to my father and best friend, who died twenty-six years ago this month, on January 12, 1993. I’m still cold, yes, but am also filled to bursting with gratitude for that bright flame.