Laying firm, youthly with scarred burns
six foot of cover, deep below any concern
this only I know, for I gave his family an ash filled urn
because for him they seemed to yearn
asking unanswerable questions in turns
so 'him' I returned.
Knock knock. Hear me, I'm still alive
somehow I survived my oxygen deprived demise
slept in a fiery disguise, then in this claustrophobic dark I was revived
to my surprise that these hollow roots slowly carried air inside.
His voice is clearly recognized though his face I could barely describe
and in every mirror I see the place that he resides, subsides.