Like a Hurricane

I loved his hair when it got too long,

and the way he looked bald when he got it cut.

I loved the way he looked, cycling on his too-small bike.

I loved the bass in his musical voice, the way he'd say my name, and

the way he loved music more than anything else. 

I loved the way he accepted me, and everything else, with a smile and 

a laugh.

But most of all, I loved his blind optimism, and the way his eyes

would crinkle when he was happy and in love with the world.

But tragedy swept through his life like a hurricane,

leaving him to walk alone through the destruction 

of his beautiful world.

His eyes do not crinkle anymore.

The End

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