As I got ready, for the day of the goodbyes I silently cried

We all were not ready, for the parting of thee when died

The smell of the reds, and yellows of the aloha flowers

Throwing the piles, of histories of dirt on the coffin for hours

My young brain, and my old heart was indistinguishable in time

Not knowing or caring, I stared at my shoelaces humming a rhyme