It is always in the hard times that I think of him.
When I need him on my side.
Because there are always sides and there are always teams.
Sometimes I picture him in this place.
I see him, in the distance, hovering over the water.
He has changed.
He is both young and old simultaneously.
His smile however remains the same.
I reach out and I can touch him.
He is there.
I feel him on my fingertips.
Yet when I open my eyes, there is dust.
Just dust and paper memories at my fingertips.
I was so close.
Perhaps next time.