I sit in the bus looking at the mountains and let him go.
I wear my big blues shoes out on rocky roads and let him go.
I swear never to walk down slippery roads in the dark and let him go.
I keep him in teary eyes after the church sermons.
I keep in the eyes of every mischievous child clinging to his mama.
I keep him in the memories of another world, a fantasy world, a long gone world.
They say memories are our personal fiction.
I keep him in all the forms of my fiction.
It is in my realities that I let him go.