I was just six,
Didn’t know what death really meant
I asked mom where you went
She held my hand, but her eyes were bent
The house got quieter that year
Your voice stopped filling every ear
No one said the word too loud
But I could feel it in the clouds
Your shoes still sat by the door
Your cup was on the kitchen floor
I waited days, I watched the gate
But you were just... too late
And I was too young to cry
Too young to ask why
But old enough to feel
That something wasn’t real
The silence started to grow
And I was the last to know
That goodbye sometimes comes
Without a sound, without drums
I saw mom talk late at night
To shadows barely in the light
She smiled less, and prayed more
I stopped playing on the floor
I used to draw your face in ink
But slowly it began to shrink
In dreams you’d come, but not for long
Just a whisper… then you’re gone
No one told me what to do
With birthday candles missing you
I blew them out, but wished the same
That next year, you'd call my name
And I was too young to cry
Too young to ask why
But old enough to feel
That something wasn’t real
The silence started to grow
And I was the last to know
That goodbye sometimes comes
Without a sound, without drums
I still wait by that old gate...
Even though I know you’re late.
