Figure

I stood a few feets away behind him, 

I stood there, still.

Taking him in, tucking the shape of his back somewhere in the space of my head, 

whilst my lips trembled at the soft sight of him, swallowing, holding back the raging tears in its place. 

I'll miss the sight of him, the sounds of his footsteps,  the look on his face when he's deep in sleep.

With all these mounted regrets I have, I know I'll be knocked over with more of it, when they're finally out of my sight. 

But I wouldn't, if I'll be called out first.