O Abraham

O Abraham when you died,
I cried,
without relief,
it was the first and fiercest grief

of my younger days,
my innocent ways.
I was four
you perhaps a little more

or maybe less
yet I still bless
the memory
of all your presence meant to me

during those cold unfriendly years
of childish fears
through which you swam
O Abraham

laying there in the goldfish bowl
was your immortal soul.