A whisper in the silent room,
The echoes of a heart once strong,
Now drift like leaves in autumn’s gloom,
A father’s love, a silent song.

The chair where he would often sit,
Now empty, holds his memory dear,
His laughter still in shadows flit,
In every corner, he is near.

The stars above seem brighter now,
As if they know the man they lost,
And though we weep and question how,
His spirit soars, untouched by frost.

We carry on, with hearts adorned,
By lessons that his life imparted,
Though we are left to mourn,
We honor him, the dearly departed.