Reflections of you besiege my heart today,
Of how you lived and suddenly went away,
It’s been a year today as it rang as a bell,
Oh! That bell-like news of how you mortally fell!
I have not forgotten how they did it,
Oh! How they sent you into an early pit,
Without pondering if their fortune lies in you,
Monsters! Ill-witted! With no wit, they shall go too.
In the mire of mourning have hearts been kept,
Filled with rage of how you untimely slept,
We’ve cried, wailed, and crowed but none could bring you back,
For if any could, we might naught at all slack.
Your reflections shall be in our hearts,
As we still walk through life’s paths,
Not of waste of time nor of vanity,
Not of immortal quest nor of insanity,
But of the light you had shone while alive,
If only that light could be saved in my archive!
But of your mien and existential being,
Of your oneness, none as exact has ever been.
Time and space truly constrain me,
Shall I write of all I know of you, young Key?
No! Ink and paper won’t do to tell all:
Of your dreams, wits, passions and virtues to extol,
Oh! If lawyerly wigs could be worn in Heaven,
Then you could be an advocate in a safe haven,